I can write and defend feminism, fists in air, sword unsheathed.
I can stand up to any man and tell him, fight me, and I will not fail.
For even though my feet felt so weak,
from being strong for so long,
here I am, still standing, and through it all,
my eyes kept dancing,
and my head I held high.
Yet mozaic mess, I am,
when it comes to you.
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