Ladies, let me ask you,

do you ever feel like you are fighting to make the world see

that you are not simply a mindless body?

Like some days you have to explain–not just to random men,

but to your father, your brother, and even your husband–

that you have thoughts and hopes and feelings and dreams?

And that these don’t all revolve around children and dresses and pretty little trinkets?

And no, you don’t want to put on make up or fix your hair in perfectly formed ringlets.

All too soon those things will fade,

and so too will all the accolade.

The truth is that beneath the facade

is not something that will leave the masses awed–

no gentle soul or sweet long suffering hides here,

naught but the bitter weight of every tear.

A scream is burning away my heart,

and some days I want to tear the world apart.

If the clock keeps ticking away the empty time

I just might throw off all pretense of rhyme

and grammatical correctness and logical arguments,

and run off to the wild and spread my wings.

 

 

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