They tell us we are strong
then portray us as meek,
ill-minded women whose
worth is measured by
the inches that we wear...

...the wear and tear upon
our skin hides the fire
within until our passion
is burned up by someone
who took it upon themselves
to light a match
inside our hearts.

The flames burn our feet
with each step we take
towards freedom,
leave ashy footprints
in our wake
marking the path,
starting at the point
where
'we went wrong.'

Who the hell has the right to tell us so?
If only we had taken a different route
if only you had paid more attention,
been more vocal,
been more stubborn
been more
if only I had been more aware
if only I hadn't been drinking
if only
if only
if only.

Why is it always our fault
when we make a 'wrong' decision
and end up with our lives
tied to a past mistake
that wasn't just ours to make?

Our voices are hoarse from the screaming,
leaning on God and pleading with God
if only He would help,
if someone would help
if someone would recognize
our silent cries
and subtle screams
because we are more than a
statistic,
we are more than the
clothing we wear
and the decisions we make.
We are more than
a bad judgement call,
all in when the going gets tough
but when we look around,
we've only got each other
to hold us up.

We're down on our knees,
practicing how to pray
and how to play
at the same f***ing time
because the rules in this
game seem to be
'anything goes'

and the winner is judged
by how many question marks
they have been able
to insert into someone
else's words.