Men have anger on their tongues
Waiting to be diluted on women's skin
Men are masculine soldiers
Who melt into fragility only on the bed
They are dominating in the bed too
Women's rage burns like the acid drops that falls on ground of the first rain They carry rebellion on their sleeves
And their heart cold and enough to destroy this toxic masculinity
Women, they scribble revolution on their bare skin
When Amrita divorced him for a slap, she didn't deserve
Nobody does
She touched revolution in her palms
When the filthy touch of yours
Reached my underdeveloped breasts
It breathed anger instead of oxygen
Anger in, anger out
Anger in, anger out
Until coldness took it's place
The blood is crimson red and boiled
Yet it lacked warmth
When the flashes resurfaced of how my uncle wanted to see me naked in his bathroom And I didn't know how this was hide and seek
And he cupped my mouth so that rage doesn't reverbrate
and told not to tell my mother
Revolution took it's birth in my eyes
When I meet him now, my body still smells of rage
And my pupils peeping out with anger
Enough to bring shame in his eyeballs
And when he gets afraid to meet hiseyes
Revolution is still lingering in my eyes
When she was slut shamed for sleeping with the girl she loved
The larynx witnessed revolution when her voice didn't stutter from the filthy comments When he took her not so consensual virginity
Because that's what people do in love
And relationships are supposed to feel nice
But pleasure for you, doesn't mean pain for the other.
When you heard a no from her without apologies
Your hands didn't crawl again
Because today her lips didn't taste like soft mulberry leaves
You saw revolution written on my tongue
When the grandma in my neighbour who used to knit sweaters for me She was beaten by her husband for confronting him
He took his belt out, to make her learn his anger
She didn't hesitate to cross the doorstep
The fingertips of her feet has revolution imprinted on it
When you blamed the girl for being raped, because her short skirt was an invitation Her thighs painted revolution with anger
And all the voices that was kept shut for too
When she was Too less or too much for you
Her voice became the howling of revolution from the diaphragm in unison Enough to make your ears echo with the noise of revolution
And your spineless body stood shaking
When you saw what anger does to a woman
It turns her into a revolution
- Yamini Parashar
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