Meet Tene’sha Crews
I was once told, that my body is my only perpetual home
One that I rightfully and eternally supposedly own.
A home in which I paint the walls whatever colors I want
And plant whatever flowers I choose to display up front.
My home where I express myself,
My life choices, plans, future, and health.
I decorate my lawn with lavish roses and swans.
Yes, inviting she looks: “did you see what she had on?”
A fence secured, doors, and windows locked,
Although the mat says “welcome”,
Consent may say that “you’re not”.
My kitchen is clean and my living room is neat
Yet, I choose when to cook or whether you can have a seat.
My home is filled with choices, all of my own
From who can walk in, to who can answer the phone.
But at some point, my home became less of my own.
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