Walking.
What a wonderful thing.
Walking.
All the joy it'll bring.
Yet, I am female.
So maybe not.
I am objectified.
Called hot.
Each whistle and comment,
Makes me want to hideaway.
I am no toy.
I don't want to play.
No, I don't want to go on a date.
Keep your ratings to yourself, I don't want to be an 8.
I am no number, I am a person.
I don't want to be your hun.
Yet, I am female.
Seen as something to play with.
I am objectified.
Catcalling is not a myth.
Walking.
What a terrible thing,
Walking.
All the harassment it'll bring.
YOU ARE READING
Walking
PoetryWe walk the streets looking for pleasure. Sometimes we are used for others pleasure instead.
