The Length Of Our Skirts

The length of our skirts and the sharpness of our tongues do not permit you to touch us. 

The arms on the clock and the stench of alcohol in our mouths, do not permit you to touch us. 

The empty alley on the side of the road, no matter how much body I showed, it does not permit you to us. 

I'm tired of having to justify my clothes 

For the actions of the men who jump out of shadows 

To take us like we belong to them,

To be warded off as pieces of property 

My assets determining my quality. 

The length of our skirts and the sharpness of our tongues do not permit you to touch us. 

 I'm tired of people normalising rape

Is there even an escape?

And I don't mean I want more rules and laws

Because it's the mindset that's flawed. 

We're looked at like pieces of meat,

It doesn't matter if we're covered up and neat 

Because it's the thinking that's dirty 

The "boys will be

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boys" even though they're thirty. 

It's not even about growing up anymore,

It's about raising them right,

To be taught not to touch and not "how not to be touched" 

We raise our voices, and we talk too much

We take it quietly, we wanted it just as much as you did. 

It has to stop. 

Zip up your pants and open up your minds 

We're uncomfortable and it's killing us. 

If you were trying to find power in my vagina,

I was a minor and you were a criminal 

If I was of the age, you're still a criminal 

But you'd be let off with a sentence that's minimum

Because you're a boy and I reeked of alcohol and cigarettes

The arms on the clock and the stench of alcohol in our mouths, do not permit you to touch us. 

There seem to be a lot of factors,

Our clothes,

Our bodies,

Our choices 

But when will your choice come under the scope

All we want is a little hope.