Newborn, skull like chalk, chipped away;  
Chiselled by an unrelenting, iron fist. 
Retreat back inside your mother, child. 
She will keep you safe. 
She will take her warm hands and mould you like clay. 
She will tell you that you can be soft. 
Over the sound of her lullabies, child,  
They will drill out the multiples of three. 
Hack away at your brain,  
Leaving nothing but circuits. 
Grade your ability to memorise and retain,  
Until you’re left running on autopilot. 
Down the factory line, 
Stripped, cloned, lobotomised. 
They will carve you out of stone, with your own barcode, 
Ready to be bought and sold, 
Bought and sold, 
Bought and sold. 


As a generation, we’ve become desensitised to everything.

Our identity is changing as a result.
I believe that everyone, at one point, has felt ‘inhuman’,
For me I struggled with feeling anything for others, I was numb and apathetic to the world and needed antidepressants in order to feel ‘normal’ again.
For a while I forgot that people around me were not just characters in my story, that they were human, that they had feelings and lives and families to go home to.
I was still capable of showing care, but somehow it didn’t feel genuine.
I even forgot that I was human, I felt like a machine working on auto-pilot.
Somehow I believe the education system was partly responsible for this, making us all feel like we were robots on a factory line.
That’s why I think our generation goes to such extremes, dousing ourselves in drink and drugs, just to feel something. To feel anything. To feel anything is better than to feel nothing at all.

Wolves, Vultures and Hyenas

They say if your skirt is short then you deserve male attention.
When I was intoxicated was I asking to be violated?

What satisfaction do you get out of groping me?
Stangers’ hand smacking my rear end as if he owns me.

Its time for us to bite back, to bare our teeth, to fight back.
To howl at the moon like a wolf pack.

So many girls share these experiences, it’s time for us to band together and realise the seriousness.
Time to question why our rights are being desecrated, and why we are degraded,
why we’re reduced to mere objects just for male enjoyment.

Why we’re made to feel uncomfortable when we walk down the street.
I’ve seen boys circling girls like vultures looking for a piece of meat to eat.

So please excuse me when the hackles raise on my back,
and I howl to the rest of my wolf pack.

One of my boys proceeded to defend me,
to point out the absolute audacity,
that putting your hands on a stranger is the epitome of vulgarity.

I glared at the hyena who performed the obscenity,
at his sharp protruding teeth when he flashed a grin right at me.

One hyena did not like the accusation,
drunk on a mixture of rage and intoxication,
he pounced at our wolf without hestitation.

Something snapped inside me, whether it was stupidity or lunacy,
I decided to retaliate.

I threw a slap and he threw me to the pavement.

They scattered into the night,
intimidated by women and wolves asserting the right,
to walk down the street without being taunted,
assaulted and given attention that we don’t want.

Emasculated by women who are not afraid,
we are the generation who will not be blamed,
for wearing a skirt or having a drink,
we will not be taught to shrink.

It turned out to be bleeding on the brain and a fractured skull,
that my brave wolf-boy suffered from.
He said that he would do it again,
if it meant defending women to the very end.

I hope those men get what they deserve,
skinned into a rug of hyena fur.
It won’t be the last hyena I’m sure,
who decides to grope me with his dirty paws.

But we are wolves and we are strong,
we will snap,
bite and howl
when wronged.

Pull my tail again, I dare you.
I will bare my teeth,

and rip you in two.

Fever Ray – The Wolf


One day, I might feel you growing in me,

A little seed.

I will do my best to care for you and nurture you. You will always be safe.

And you will blossom into the most delicate flower.

I will do my best to protect you, I will cradle you in my arms and sing you soft lullabies when you cry.

But the thought of bringing you into such an ugly world makes me ache with sadness, little one.

You would hate me for being born.

And so I’m not sure if any flowers will ever grow at all.