Dead in Disgust - a poem based on my everyday experience

Every time I walk through a busy street, I get goosebumps. 

I am alert.

People says busy streets are full of life.

But here I am always moving my eyes 180 degree 

to see if any hand comes flashing in.

I don't see the street,

I don't see people,

I only feel creeps.

I hold my breath,

my brain in alarm.

One hand protecting my chest, 

another trying to cover my hip. Defensively I take steps.

I tremble even if someone's bag

brushes against my skin.

Every time I step out

I become a dog sniffing out dangers,

I become a rabbit,

ears alert.

I no longer stay a soul. 

I get shattered even before something actually happens.

Oh, I am already immune to cat callings.

Too much of it everyday made me numb.

But you see when it comes to my body,

I am still protective.

I got immune to the skin-tearing stares.

But when it comes to touching,

I am not ready for that.

Once I was fifteen,

a small, scared girl with menstruation new.

An auto-riksha passenger slid his hands into my hips.

My whole body trembled in fear

but mouth stayed shut.

For the first time my skin got introduced to groping.

I blamed myself for not hitting him back.

Today when I walk with my hands over my hip, 

body taken inside

just the way you sometimes hold your stomach inside. 

They still aim for my hip.

And in a busy road

I get rigid.

In fear, more in disgust.

I freak out everytime I step out.

Looking for predators as if I am a prey.

Or maybe, Maybe

I should be immune to molestation too.

Then maybe I can breathe freely outside.

I can live well.

Or else, I have to get scared to death every minute.

On a street,

among hundred thousand million souls, 

I walk like a dead soul.