Hi, I’m a woman

Hi. I’m a woman, 

and no I will not be defined the way you chose to define me, 

but are my screams really comprehended?

I will not align with the shape of an hour glass,  eat a little less, because my waist is not as blessed, 

as you wished it would be, and,

I will not break a sweat for hours.

and not be gentle or shy or docile 

but will you then accept me?

I’m not afraid of being excluded and marginalised 

I guess that’s what I’m used to, considering all your ties, 

of mindless restrictions on my mind, my body, my clothes and even my choices.

I’m a woman, 

and somehow my dignity hounds me

because you’re not letting me breathe 

shoving it down my throat 

that my vagina is an oath, I have to swear to the right man, my husband, 

and this is what, from the deepest corners of Mt heart I loathe, 

because you persistently persist 

your rigid chains on my oh so feeble ankles,

and sow in my mind a dirty seed

that I’m only an object and nothing more 

seems to me, like it’s better not to exist.
I’m a woman, and it’s so much baggage today

because I’m the more vulnerable one

and you are the protector 

but aren’t you violating me too?

I was told the only limit to me, is in my mind

by learned, wise professors and speakers, 

but reality is a void, I can’t simply ignore that kind,

and it keeps throwing me into a pit 

where you keep letting me, 

the limit to me, is my vagina, 
I’m told to be soft and I’m asked to be shy, 

as I see today, equality is one big fat lie, 

and I look around and see too many ropes, at my disposal, for me to die,

from the measuring tape to the rope and from the rope to the clothes and from the clothes to my body.

You have turned me into a prison

and I can’t breathe, 

this temple that was supposed to be me,

is now simply a confinement 

and I’m shackled, 

because you’d rather have me suppressed 

than have an equal.

Beauty standards.

I don’t want to wear glitter 

I don’t want to wear gold 

Don’t condemn my skin.

There is only so much of me I can hold
These colours are supposed to be beautiful.

Why then do you marginalise me 

Beauty is what you defined 

into beauty how you want it to be.
Don’t tell me I’m not beautiful 

because my skin is not lighter 

and my eyes are not the shape of a leaf 

God help you, your mind couldn’t be brighter.
I won’t lay boundaries to what I am 

because you’re afraid of the horizon 

I won’t put on anything to adorn me 

I am content, I’m alright if I wizen
I don’t have to hide my skin or show it 

I don’t have to be beautiful to your eyes 

I am what I am, gold or stone, 

but I am myself, No pretence, no lies.

-WANDERER