Walking on the street with my friend,

A lit cigarette dangling in my hand with a,

Wisp of smoking permeating the air around me,

A guy behind me asks as I stand to cross the road

If I have a match for his cigarette.

I give my lighter, wait a fraction of a second,

Then I'm on my way.

Followed by the same guy, this time,

On a bike, his friend in the back, with two beer bottles

hanging from a plastic kit on its handle and asks

"Wanna play a game of truth or dare"

All with with a cheeky smile and I shake my head no

My friend, alarmed, puts his hand around me, pulling me to the other side.

We keep walking.

My friend asks how dare he follow us,

And agitates on his behavior,

But looks at me in silence as I try to brush it off,

Hurrying to move on to the next topic.

He doesn't know that-

Inside me something is ready to slip which-

if I let it,

will unleash years of suppressed anger that has built up

in me, whenever I encounter men taking women for granted.

Men seeing a woman that doesn't fit his image of a "lady"

and deems fit to be approached, nay, harassed and

followed, all with a smug smile on their face.

Something they would brag to their friends.

I wonder where I'd put all this anger.

And then I wonder WHY I'm quick to anger?

I wonder WHY my anger is always at it's tipping point?

To know to have a choice in anger is a privilege-

This boiling rage within me doesn't subside ever, no.

It builds up and up and I put a lid over it.

Because in an alternate scenario,

If I could have that beer bottle in my hand, I'd have smashed it

on his head and said "how's that for a dare?"

Without batting an eye, without flinching an inch,

Because tell me, how do you kill monsters without turning into one?