(no subject)

Prompt: shrieking
Written November 8, 2016, waiting for class to start, before the results started rolling in. I reread it on Nov 11 in order to type it up. It hurt. It stoked my rage, which I managed to bank after a day of avoiding my tumblr dash. I wrote this thinking about how Hillary Rodham Clinton felt after years under scrutiny.


They call it shrieking
when they don’t want to listen,
don’t want to give you your due,
don’t want to spare attention,
when they know better than you.
They call it shrieking
when your words don’t matter
and your voice is discarded.
They call it shrieking
and they’ll talk over you
because their words are more important,
their words deserve to be heard
unlike yours because
their voices aren’t shrieking.

(Take a breath.
Breathe out.
Make them shake.
Shriek. )