Requiem For A Dream

At the risk of sounding like Martin Luther King,
I want to tell you, that I have a dream.
A dream that is simple, yet pure and just.
They don’t want me to tell you, but yet I must.
My dream is to be seen as more than my breasts
To not be viewed as just another conquest.
I wish to be known, for more than my thighs
So when I tell you my story, it’s not seen as lies.
You see, as a woman I am still seen
as an object or item, for those to demean.
My body is a temple, but yet not for me,
For those that seek pleasure, from lust and glee.
They say I should be flattered but how can it be?
When none of this pleasure, reflects on me.
I have a dream that one day I can decide
To just say no and say it with pride.
To know that my body remains only my own
And not be afraid of what they condone.

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