Fuck You
I won’t be
The right type
Of victim
I won’t be the
Quiet type
Of victim
I won’t fit
Neatly
Into boxes
For you to close
I am not sick
Or broken
Irreparably
Damaged
I refuse to be
Well
And recovered
Fixed
And mended
I am not
A statistic
To be counted
Or dismissed
I am more than that
I am not
One page of a book
One leaf on a tree
One voice in a crowd
I’m all the words and sounds
I am a forest of ideas
A chorus of experiences
I am not
A professional
An academic
An undercover reporter
I am not
A mother
A partner
A sister
A daughter
I am not single
But many
A multitude
Of identities
Fuck you
And your labels
Your projections
Of my stability
My strengths
My life
My capability
My everything
You don’t know
Who I am
You can’t see
Past your assumptions
Your agenda and vendetta
Your arrogant
Hypocracy
You’re blinded by
desire to silence
But the cat’s out the bag
You cannot keep me
Quiet
Until the cows come home
That day has ended
And a change has begun
*****
