The hollow passage of my womanhood.

I did not know; I was not aware.

My doomed womanhood questioned the prejudices,

A lingering poignant feeling drying my mouth.

I'm not a dime's worth, with my typical point of view.

Today, I ran back and forth in the forest.

The murmurs of the dry leaves, synchronised with the sound of oppression.

I bled between my legs.

I plead guilty in a world, egalitarianism is pedantic; philanthropy is for fame.

I felt like a worm waiting to be beheaded,

Whilst building a grave for the earth I smelled my happy thoughts.

A hot brewed cup of coffee and laughing till I gasp for breath.

Joy must smell of petrichor, a smell I yearn for.

I struggle to understand the way you think, lend me a parasite of your brain.

I'm not a saviour, I'm not a hero.

But why must a whale from the brave ocean be slaughtered for your entitlement?

And your illusion.

I'm craven.

I am waiting for the bureaucracy to sink whilst losing my mind.

Perhaps then, I'll take a bus to hell; God will serve fascism for breakfast.

And I'll throw a fit.   

The writer is a grade 12 student at Bangladesh International School and College.