The digital age is delivered through screens
lit brighter than the streets where women “asked for it.”
Your digital presence is filtered,
fitted to your taste of self-disclosure
to your choice of entering compressed pixels.
There is anonymity and there is
the illusion of a moment well-captured, well-lived.
There is loudness wrapped
in a tamed revolution of mass audiences.
If you hustle, you could become sensational
though you may lose sensibility along the way.
Then there is me,
stuck in uncertainty. Where to begin
when it seems I’ve been granted new courage
to say the things I leave unsaid in real time.
But to my words my name must be attached:
If I say I hate you
If I say I love you
If I say whatever, however, I should know
words can’t, may not be taken
back if absolutely spilled–heard, read, felt–
Must I not take ownership of my voice?