《你不是孤身一人》

在这个世界上，有些伤口是看不见的。

但请相信，你所说的每一个字，

都没有掉进虚无。

你感到寒冷、沉重吗？

伸出你的双手，

这里有许多个“我”，

正向你靠拢。

我们会听见你颤抖的呼吸，

听，

那不是你一个人的哭泣，

我们是盘根错节的森林。

那些被捂住的嘴，

现在可以自由呼吸。

那些遍布伤痕的肩膀，

也可以彼此依偎。

有人用淤泥掩埋你，

却不知你是一颗种子。

有人用火焰融化你，

却不知你将百炼成钢。

他用利刃斩断你的翅膀，

却不知你已然学会奔跑。

你不必感到孤独，

等到黎明降临，

我们会陪你睁开眼睛。

《我的眼神让你恐惧》

当你凝视我的双眼，

你是否感到了恐惧？

我从未给予你许可。

这是对你的最后警告。

你以为自己在做什么？

你妄图摧毁我的意志，

以为能毁掉我的余生。

你错了——

你毁灭的是你自己。

我知晓自己的权利，

我从未孤身一人。

因为我有普罗维登斯的眼睛。

我有美杜莎的勇气。

我将高举雷神的重锤。

我将进行反击，

我会站起来，

我会向前走。

监狱是你最后的归宿。

凝视我的眼睛。

《幸存者偏差》

大地赐予我深色的肌肤，

这难道是我的罪证吗？

我今天穿了一条新裙子，

这难道是我的性邀请吗？

我戴着耳机走在深夜里，

这难道是我欢迎袭击的信号吗？

我在不喜欢的讨论中保持沉默，

这难道是我对群体霸凌的特许吗？

我满怀憧憬与你走入婚姻殿堂，

这难道是你挥拳相向的免责证明吗？

傍晚的公交车上，拿铁咖啡还冒着热气，

熟悉的红绿灯前，耳机的音乐正到高潮，

在分享日常之前，尖锐的指责未被预料，

钥匙刚插进锁孔，身后的阴影毫无预兆。

为什么外貌要带来歧视与苦难？

为什么穿搭会成为罪犯的借口？

为什么保持沉默也是一份罪孽？

为什么我必须保持警惕，直到沉沉睡去？

我看着镜子里的自己，

找不到活该的证据。

可我每一次出门，

都像是一场以命下注的赌局。

别再用放大镜，

去挑剔受害者的指甲，

风雨不在乎自己折断的是哪一朵花。

分母看着新闻，以为那只是远方的雷鸣，

但那道阴影，也许正站在你的窗外。

任何人在任何一秒，

都可能成为那个被统计的数字。

我们之间，从来没有安全与危险的鸿沟，

只有命运暂未落下的时差。

“You are not alone”

In this world, some wounds are invisible.

But please believe, every word you say

does not fall into emptiness.

Do you feel cold and heavy?

Stretch out your hands;

here, many "I's"

are coming close to you.

We can hear your trembling breath—

listen,

that is not you crying alone;

we are a forest with intertwined roots.

Those covered mouths

can now breathe freely.

Those scarred shoulders

can also lean on each other.

Someone buries you in the mud,

but they don't know you are a seed.

Someone melts you with fire,

but they don't know you will turn into steel.

Someone cuts off your wings with a knife,

but they don't know you have already learned to run.

You don't need to feel lonely;

when dawn comes,

we will be with you when you open your eyes.

“My Eyes Strike Fear in You”

As you gaze into my eyes,

do you feel the fear?

You never had my consent.

This is your final warning.

What did you think you were doing?

You wanted to crush my will,

you thought,

you could destroy the rest of my life.

You were wrong—

It is yourself you have destroyed.

I know my rights,

I am not alone.

For my eyes are the very Eye of Providence.

I have the courage of the Medusa.

I shall raise high Thor’s hammer.

I shall strike back,

I shall stand tall,

I shall march forward.

Prison is the only place left for you.

Gaze into my eyes.

“Survivor Bias”

The earth bestowed upon me this dark skin;

was this, then, the proof of my guilt?

I wore a new dress today;

was this, then, an invitation for sexual advances?

I walk late at night with headphones on;

is this a signal that I welcome an attack?

I remained silent during a conversation I disliked;

did that grant permission for group bullying?

I entered marriage filled with hope;

did that give you a license for domestic abuse?

On the evening bus, my latte was still steaming;

at the familiar traffic light, the music in my ears was reaching its crescendo;

before I could share the day's events, a harsh accusation struck—unforeseen;

as the key turned in the lock, a shadow loomed behind me without warning.

Why must appearance bring discrimination and suffering?

Why does one's choice of clothing become an excuse for a criminal?

Why is silence, too, treated as a sin?

Why must I remain on guard until the moment I drift into sleep?

I look at my reflection in the mirror,

finding no evidence that I deserved this.

Yet every time I step outside,

it feels like a gamble where I wager my life.

Stop using a magnifying glass

to nitpick at the victim's fingernails;

the storm cares not which flower it snaps.

The denominator watches the news, thinking the thunder rumbles only in the distance，

yet that very shadow might be standing right outside your window.

At any given second, anyone

could become one of those statistics.

There is no chasm separating the safe from the endangered—

only the time difference before fate descends.