Work Text:
Little kids are supposed to be scared of the dark;
There’s so many things that one can’t see
—but I shouldn’t have to be
I shouldn’t feel eyes on me when I walk home at night.
They lit up this alleyway, it doesn’t make it better
Florescence doesn’t cancel out any odds
Not a number crossed off
The number, my worth, still lingers in my head
I shouldn’t have to hold my keys like brass knuckles
I should be able to go to the bathroom alone
I impatiently await the day
When it’s your daughter, your wife, your mother, your sister, your friend
And it will suck
But in that moment, I hope you’ll know
That all of us are Jane Doe.
And I hope you Fix It.