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Scott's Poem
May 11, 2015
Spindly hands on me,
But I don’t remember giving consent.
Hair falling down, greasy.
Again I see skin tones, blen’t.
You call me insane,
But I must be to blame.
You took what you wanted. Why would you remain?
And I didn’t give consent.
You remind me not to trust.
You’re everything I’ve ever been scared of.
© Katie P., Bethesda, MD
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