Epitome of Strength

She was seven, eating an ice cream with a girlfriend, 
When she saw him, 
Juggling his balls like a clown in a circus, 
Her heart skipped a beat,
His nose wasn't red, 
But her friend's cheeks were,
It was not okay. 

She was thirteen when it came in, 
Her friends were right, 
It brought her more pain that she deserved, 
As if once wasn't enough, 
It vowed to drop in every month from that day on, 
Like an unwanted relative. 
It was not okay. 

She was twenty-five,
Her life was perfect, 
But hormones happened, 
Her face like the north pole, 
With pimples for icicles, 
Thank god for makeup she thought, 
But how could she mask away the pain,  
Fuelled by rude comments,
Which said she was scary, a monster.
It was not okay. 

She was twenty-six, 
Confident about her status and position, 
She suggested before she was cut off, 
Mansplained, 
And her ability to counter, 
A reason for her being unmarried.
It was not okay. 


But woman, 
Groped, Flashed, Objectified, Dragged down
Look where you are,
You're still here,
Still standing,
The epitome of strength. 

-Yet Another Thing





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