He Cried When I Left, Which I

Shakespeare; The Only Man I'd Ever Love.

Being Brave Means To Know Something Is Scary, Difficult, And Dangerous, And Doing It Anyway, Because The Possibility Of Winning The Fight Is Worth The Chance Of Losing It.

He Cried When I Left, Which I Find To Be Standard Male Behavior.

And, What's More, This 'precious' Body, The Very Same That Is Hooted And Honked At, Demeaned Both In Daily Life As Well As In Ever Existing Form Of Media, Harrassed, Molested, Raped, And, If All That Wasn't Enough, Is Forever Poked And Prodded And Weighed And Constantly Wrong For Eating Too Much, Eating Too Little, A Million Details Which All Point To The Solitary Girl, To Every Solitary Girl, And Say: Destroy Yourself.

What If I'm An Angel Without Wings To Take Me Home?