Every time you trace my skin with your filthy fingers,
Every scratch, every bruise, every mark you leave,
Speaks of you.
You do not disrespect me.
Trust me, you cannot.
You do not have that kind of power over me.
Never did.
And never will.
You disrespect your own existence.
You dishonour the life that begets you.
You disregard the life that comes from you.
You peel off your own humanity while mine remains intact,
You tear apart your honour while mine remains unscathed.
Respect is not skin deep.
It’s so much more than a mere human body.
Respect is a way of living.
My way of living.
You mutilate my body beyond recognition,
Yet, I remain.
You slash and cut at my body searching for a soul to stifle and a mind to silence,
My life bleeds out unto the death of yet another of the myriad,
But you do not find a soul to rip off, a mind to slice through,
My identity that you so desperately wanted to crush with your own mighty hands eludes you.
And maybe,
Maybe, now you know why I am, truly, an untouchable.

~ thoughts in solitude ~