In the Shape of a Woman

Surrounded by hungry animals, I must become one to conquer the fear of being eaten.

To embody the very thing I loathe the most.

Lurking eyes linger in the air, something sticky, grimy, and filthy.

Trying to strip away my thoughts, my voice, until there’s nothing but a shape—a husk to satisfy their hunger. Like a sheep waiting to be sheared out of its wool, skin stripped bare.

These wolves can smell the weak, they can hunt you down until your body lies there without a soul, a husk.

But I will never crawl back into this mold, only given to those gentle and tame, obedient and silent.

To escape the herd, to never become the prey.

I began to change myself into something strange and grotesque, taking a monstrous shape so their eyes slid off of me. A threat for hunger, no longer an invitation.

So I have to be like them, a horrendous being. I spread blood on every expectation they have for me. Pull out my vocal cords to defy every word forced onto me, so desperate to break away from this reality.

But I won’t fold, I will bare my teeth. I will not fall for their traps, not fall weak under these wolves. I will claw my way out of their ribs, become sharper and repulsive to the taste—something difficult to digest.

Sometimes the jealousy of being like them consumes me, never having to bleed, never having to become vessels for other lives. 

Standing on Earth like rulers, with the luxury of just existing. Living by instinct to take and conquer.

So to live freely, I will trade my innocence for rage, my voice for venom, and porcelain skin for thick thorns.

I don’t want to be devoured, so I have to be like them. 

A monster wearing the shape of a woman.

Article: Phoenix Novelonio

Illustration: ALLAINE CHESCA ARCAYA