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Poetry

March for the many stories untold

March for the many stories untold

The many sobs unheard

March for the many times a woman flinched

Not wanting to be touched, not wanting to be groped

March for when love turns purple

Marriages still are

March for the women in shambles

March for the dreams charred

March, for blues are still more wanted

More wanted than pink

March for yourself

March for your kin

March for a woman still clenches on keys

Always looks behind

Rape she still fears

To cover or to uncover

Others decide what she wears

March for she carries honor

March for she’s killed over it

March for the little girl

Who doesn’t understand the burden of brown paper still

March for a woman’s body

Is everyone’s but hers

March for those slut shamed

March for those unheard

March for the stories buried by time

March for the abortions

The many still in line

March for unhappy brides

Sold for a price

March for they’re still abused

March for their cries

March for today’s struggle

A tomorrow is seen

Where Eve walks upright, where Eve walks free

Where consent is more known a word

More known a word than safety