Level the Playing Field

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What you wanted was more slap than tickle. I said no. I don't
swing that way, but you insisted and at my hands you are marked
red and blue. I warned you. I am competitive. I get carried away.
I was taught not to fight and now I know better; I know scraping skin
with nails shovels the road for safe passage. Words are thrown at me:
survivor, fighter, warrior, feminist and of them all I prefer goddess
because She rings true. That pure cry of worship is all I ask,
so when you say slap and I say no and you insist, I show my might.
I show you in the mirror of your skin the meaning of disregard.
I show you how tall I am when you are on your knees. I command.
You wanted space at my temple. Here you are. You better pray.