This article is written by a student writer from the Her Campus at TAMU chapter.
I will not be reasonable.
I will not be quiet.
I will be loud and angry and large.
I will rip your throat out with my teeth.
Would you tell a tiger to be reasonable?
It would laugh and sharpen its claws on your spine.
I will grow so big
that I swallow the world whole,
filling all the empty space in the sky
with my unbrushed hair and spotted thighs
and stomach like rolling hills.
The tigers will be nothing but ladybugs in a garden,
stripes turned to spots as they crawl along my face,
steel wool tongues polishing my cheeks.
I will not apologize.
I will not look away.
I will make you want the tigers back.