The paper in my letters

Our minds are like a mother board filled with digitalized files over filled with letters written by human tongue. There are some we'd burn so our sorrow can be lifted upon our chest. Letters that we'd bury within us like dirt so it can't hurt us any longer. And the playing cards we hold as we walk throughtout our days, the golden one. "I have a boyfriend"because men would rather respect a strange men that a woman. If only I remembered to take my cards with me that one day, when I came back home I had a heavy black letter. 7 year old me didn't understand so I dug it deep inside, then another letter and another and another and another. I felt as if I was swallowed, in a pit of blackness filling myself with embarrassment and sadness. I couldn't breath but I couldn't let anyone else know, they'd see me with disgust, they wouldn't be proud of me. I blamed myself. I felt like paper, thin with emotion, brittle with happiness, blandness covering my soul making me numb. My skin turning white as if I was drawn. Could you draw a smile on my face for me? But that was yesturday's letters, I've burned the black letters and now I will use my tongue to speak for my sisters and our mother and grandmothers and all the women past that. I know it's not all men but it's enough that I hold my breath every time a man walks by me. It's enough that I hold my phone tight whereever I go. It's enough that I hold my tongue. It's enough that my shoulders will decide whether I end up in an alleyway or a police car. It's enough that he can be a 10 and he's so nice so he couldn't have done it. This is my letter, made with tears, blood and sweat, I written it with my tongue of purity or you wouldn't listen. I written this letter without hurting you, but you'll still blame me for it all. So I have a question to lather on that newspaper, men, why do you want to be oppressed so much that you kill your own kind?