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Their eyes trace my skin Like fingers on a page. Their words find my ear With laughter coarse as sandpaper. The whistles echo In the din of the street, And although I am surrounded
Is to be stared at             Leered at                         Eyebrows waggled at                                     Cat-called                                                 Belittled
A simple walk was all it should've been The breeze blowing The trees whispering  The birds singing A simple walk it was   A simple walk was not what they intended The breeze hushed
whistle my entire existence is contingent upon
When I was nine I wore a B-cup I looked about fourteen and I sat outside the dollar store Eating a popsicle next to my mom. More than one man passed me and stared. I still don't eat popsicles.
They whistle and howl Am I just a piece of meat? Faster, wolves devour   Note to Reader: I am a woman. I expect to able to walk down the street and not fear for my safety. I am a woman.
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