Take a seat while I assert myself.
To explain to you that my want of collectivity.
Doesn’t outshine my need for individuality.
Of a mad woman.
My politics won’t include you.
Nor does it have to.
Centuries of erasure.
And you want to silence me again?
I refuse to tame my sharp words to fit your weak regulations.
All these expectations.
But don’t you know, I am done with presentations?
Centuries of oppression.
But you want to play the meek one.
I am calling you out on that one, because.
Hypocrisy is what I unlearned.
But let not my words scare you, I am not looking for power reversal.
Your seclusion is therefore not personal.
Our revolutions take place on marked bodies.
We both suffer inconsolably.
But does that mean I have to be inclusive.
Just because you cry while I refuse to be submissive?
Don’t be upset if I don’t acknowledge you.
I developed a resistance to being invisible.
Why can’t you?
This bliss of being a confused woman.
The same bliss they called a shame.
Will you ever realize, darling.
That you did the same?