The squeal of a train pulling out of the station, It's intensity still makes me shiver. The men I see eyeing off my uncovered legs, Making me feeling like stripped meat in a butchers shop.
It's like they have shed the numerous layers I wear proudly, With only a quick up and down glance and a smirk. Most of the time I don't believe they would even want to look at me. Sure I'm young and tender but I don't see what they see.
I don't see myself as conventionally pretty. So why should they, these observing men. Even so I still feel vulnerable, Despite the many witnesses that surround.
What if they follow, what if they pounce. Oh how easily scared I have become.
About the Creator
Natasha Burton
I’ve always had a passion for poetry, internal monologues and short stories! I hope you all enjoy what I produce, feedback is greatly appreciated :)
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