A woman is not a vessel
Into which to spill your seed
Not a soulless tool to feed you
To meet your body’s greed
A woman is not a cup
From which you can freely drink
Not a puppet or a plaything
To entertain your wink
A woman is no mere painting
No unfeeling work of art
Her body is no sculpture
To excite a hungry heart
She isn’t one of her father’s wares
Nor property of a spouse
Not an asset that changes hands
When she exchanges vows
She is not your unworthy skank
Nor your deity or your muse
She exists without you
And has every right to choose
She’s a thinking, feeling person
A living, breathing whole
An independent human
With mind, body, heart and soul.

A man is not a monster
To steal from someone’s soul
A man is not a beast
To reduce a woman to a hole
A man is not an idiot
To presume only he can feel
Nor is he a demon
To claim a woman for a meal
He is no barbarian
To assume he may freely take
Hurt, pillage and plunder
And leave agony in his wake
No, he is not an ogre
To feed on human flesh
Not a zombie or a vampire
To take a soul to feel refreshed
He is not a sociopath
To enjoy another’s grief
Not an animal or a werewolf
A ruffian or a thief
And yet, every day, around us
A man ignores her will
And tears into her soul
So that he may feel a thrill.