Quietly they glisten
And ask you to listen
Eyes full of tears and salt water,
Mourning the life she sought after 
Destroyed before her a city razed
Nothing escapes her weary gaze
She tells her tale
Notice how it feels stale
Like old forgotten women
Denied their ticket to your heaven
There's a strange satisfaction
The need to help, to contribute
The need to condescend as well as we do
A victim hearing her own voice
Denied the right to her own choice
And when she comes forward to the light
We tell her how her story isn't right
As though a bedtime romp
And a recount of an assault
Are the same goddamn thing
Can you hear that dogwhistle ring
Through the air like a siren
Can we really take their dignity from them?
And as her tears fall
We try to make her "story" stick to the wall
And hope twelve of her distinguished peers 
Sitting in their seats on tiers
Decide whether her pain
Is worth the life of a Man.