You don’t get a vote. You don’t get a say. Fuck off. Hands in my space like it’s public land, Opinions leaking out of every man. Got a law for my body, a joke for my rage, Excuses stacked page by fucking page. You call it debate, I call it control, Counting my organs like inventory goals. Smile for the camera, shut up for the feed, Then act fucking shocked when we grind our teeth. You talk shit loud, then whine when we answer. You poke the bear, then cry about danger. Get your fucking hands off me. Get your fucking rules off me. Not your body, not your call, Not your goddamn anything. Get your fucking eyes off me. Get your fucking laws off me. We don’t owe you shit at all, So choke on your entitlement. Every warning sounds like blame, Every threat wears a “concerned” name. You say be careful, don’t provoke, As if respect’s a fucking joke. Raised to manage male demand, Learned compliance before we stand. Now you’re scared we’re done behaving, Done explaining, done translating. You made the mess, you built the trap. Now eat the noise, you fragile hack. Get your fucking hands off me. Get your fucking rules off me. Not your body, not your call, Not your goddamn anything. Get your fucking eyes off me. Get your fucking laws off me. We don’t owe you shit at all, So choke on your entitlement. This isn’t anger you can tone-police. This isn’t rage you can monetize. This is years of bite marks, Screenshots, Closed doors, And “boys will be boys” bullshit. You don’t get comfort. You get consequences. Say it clear. Say it raw. Say it till the walls fall off. Get your fucking hands off me. Get your fucking rules off me. Not your body, not your call, Not your goddamn anything. Get your fucking eyes off me. Get your fucking laws off me. We don’t owe you shit at all. Not now. Not ever. Fuck your control.
