ON THE EDGE OF THE PRECIPICE (a poem)

The dark, it's unwavering.
The fear, it's all-encompassing.
The dread, it's never-ending.
The worry, it's unfaltering.

The tide is coming in,
I struggle, it pulls me deeper.
My head's above the water,
But my body's getting weaker.

The first lick of flame, 
I feel warmth at my feet,
They creep up my body,
It's unbearable heat.

The beauty of ice, 
I can't resist the touch,
It takes over my body,
It becomes too much.

The man dressed in black,
Lingering like a shadow.
Feeding off my sadness,
Lapping up my sorrow.

The edge of the precipice,
Have I admitted defeat?
I take a step back,
I will not be beat.

The light, it's inviting.
The hope, it's intoxicating.
The happiness, it's enticing.
The future? It's tempting.



WE AIM TO PLEASE.

Over the past year, I've found myself particularly drawn to feminist books. Books about empowering women. Periods. Sex. Smashing taboos. Increasingly, I come away feeling like I want to talk about one thing in particular: men

I'm not someone who believes women are better than men. And for the record, those people aren't feminists. A feminist is someone who believes men and women should have equal rights. And let's be honest, we don't. It doesn't matter how much times have progressed (and they have), we are very far from being seen as equal. Jobs of power. Pay grades. But the thing I want to talk about today is: the way women act.

Without knowing this, women are brought up to please men. Women should be polite. Women should smile. Women should be revealing, but not revealing enough to be a "slut". Women should be quiet. Women should be flattered if someone of the opposite sex gives her attention -- this is the one I want to talk about.

Why do we live in a society in which we should be grateful for unwanted, undesired attention?