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Burn the dupatta
That shields my cleavage —
A net for your brains
Swimming in the sewage.

Paint my face bright
I’ll wear short shorts
I am NOT your trophy
My flesh? Not sports.

I’ll walk my streets
In the dark of the night;
How dare your urges
Trample ‘pon my right?

I’ll drink my gin straight
Ride back home in the train
Grope me and you’ll get
A solid kick in your groin.

Stick those thirsty eyes
Back into your sockets
Shove those loitering hands
Now! Into your pockets

Must we all be
Lorena Bobbitt
To rid you
Of your nasty habit?

Of rabid, bestial hormones
I’m all but envious
My pen is far mightier
Than your ruling penis.

Not Draupadi, not Sita
Spinning naked into fire
I am the Goddess Kali
The answer to your desire.

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