Darin Gad

Am I crazy?
Are you calling me crazy?

I hate being called crazy.

No one knows what it means.

Let me break this down
Because apparently, the message hasn’t gotten around
That women are forced beneath the ground
When it comes to being allowed
To be the same as anyone in a public crowd

Who are you to call me insane
For wanting what every human feels in their veins
You’ll call me beautiful and pretty too
But when I’m sad
Suddenly I’m in a categorized class
Lower than you

Did I just get demoted to an animalistic creature?
Lashing out with my sharp fangs and claws
Pounding into your privacy with the laws
That underhandedly shape all
The disadvantages handed to us like gifts
That are supposed to make us all fit
Right into a puzzle of control and misfit
Jumping us like a mob hit

Am I supposed to say that it’s all pretend
When I’m wanting attention
And that when tears fall from my eyes
It’s not worth your time?
Cause then my feelings become invalid
And it has to be your way, so have it
Society has made it a habit
To call women rabid

But when it’s anyone else
With a masculine enhancement
It’s okay for them to be maddened
To feel attacked
Because a girl said no after being asked to smash
A question she wasn’t supposed to pass

Unless it was a yes
And yet the whole world is clueless
To the reactions that get blamed on a double-edged mess
Of having to agree to get out of distress
Because the guy would lash out at the mistress

Threatening violence, claiming it was expressive
Saying that he’s a nice guy so he’s allowed to be possessive
Even though there was no consent, it was never her choice
Never her voice
That spoke up to escape an inescapable fate



Tell me that the sexual assault
Was my fault
That I was wearing something too short
That I had drunk too much
That I had it coming
That I shouldn’t have guy friends
That I should have been more cunning
That I wanted it
That I should have enjoyed it
Because somehow justifying what happened is more important

Tell that to the AIDS I now have to cover
To the baby in my body with no father
To the money I spend paying for therapy
Because of the panic I get whenever someone touches my body

Then tell me that it’s okay to not freely feed my kin
When it’s crying loud, begging and wild in public
Because someone can’t handle human nature, telling me my motherhood is a sin
But somehow they can handle a hungry child

Then tell me I look bloated
That I shouldn’t have had a baby this young
That I’m overloaded
That I missed out on my youthful days
As if I had a say in the first place



Maybe I should put it up for adoption
Give it to the system, give it no option
Let it share the screaming nights I had
Make its life miserable in the system that preaches hope for the hopeless kids
But treats them like they’re mad

When I really think about it, I should be grateful
Thankful I haven’t lost my biological clock
I shouldn’t let it go to waste and finish it off
It’s a woman’s purpose to have sex after all


There are so many stories, like this one, like me
Like one out of four women you walk past on the street

So I just want you to see

The truth about

Who’s really sane

And who’s really crazy.

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