Hands glued. Body iced. Eyes wide open. I sing to myself the song of rape. The untold story of every girl happened to me too. The touch of a man I didn’t know exploring the parts of body I hadn’t explored yet. The touch that still lingers on very part of my body when a man’s around. That bad touch that makes me sick to my stomach and wants to vomit it is all. That breathe of his on my face smells like a dead animal. The strong hands, legs and the flesh on my body feels like I’m being buried alive. While taking in all this, I scream louder and louder, my voice goes distinct and unheard. The body I had been born with is never mine again. I feel foreign inside the body of my own, I try to visit the places that haven’t been touched and scared, to find a home. I smile at people I know as though life is perfect while hiding hell under the clothes I wear. I sleep on the times I shouldn’t and wake up on the times I should sleep just so I don’t slip into the dreams that replays the bad touch clip again. I become more quiet with each passing day. I’m more someone else and less of me. For this to stop, I have communicate and ART is what I choose. Cause enough is enough. Being guilty is not written on the chapters of my book, art is. I’m a piece of art finding a way to live through darkness that cries and love that hurts. Raise your voices because forever is rare. -M
Raise your voices. You don't have to prove it or give any justification. Just take a stand.
"The Me Too movement (or #MeToo movement), with many local and international alternatives, is a movement against sexual harassment and sexual assault." -Wiki
Please respect the cause.
#Collab#BetiBachao#betibachaobetipadhao#BelieveWomen#yourquoteandminecollaborating
