your words lacerate me: i fall into your hatred like a river

the vision began as diagonal lacerations of blood red against bare shoulders and then morphed through a cube box of a head into a veiled nod to the niqab and a flowing river skirt.

the thick scarf serves as more protection against the insults the modern woman agoraphobe will face as she heads off into a dystopian idiocracy of misogynist cave apes.

no fur necessary.
the pain of animals will not protect anyone.
it would only make a sensitive person cry more, and the river of tears from which she emerges is already boundless.