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Writer's pictureBianca Wargo

I've met a monster

its name?

Toxic Masculinity.

It's jaw is large,

wide,

and flexible.

It's low but loud growl

drones on with the oozing slobber

drip-drips into the ocean,

hissing as each droplet reaches the waves.


Looking down

at the ends of its marred and mangled arms

are long talons that

I suppose

you could consider fingers.


In one hand is a man

being strangled between the claws,

trying to speak,

pointing to his head–

"Help me," he mouths the words, but

the only help he gets are shouts to "man up."

No one hears his thoughts

and the monster has stolen his breath to speak.


In the other mangled claw is a woman

whose face is flushed red and her hair

standing up from her perspective.

She is being held by the hairs of her private parts,

her legs pulled apart by gravity

that she's too exhausted to fight.

She tries to yell for help,

but the crowd is too busy

telling him to "man up"

that no one hears her either.

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