Is it the lipstick?
Or
The shades of
mascara,
The curl on thy top
and
It’s hide and seek
on forehead
Cascading hair on
back
A mole on thy neck
Chapped lips beg to
be licked
The way you dress
up-
Modern or ancient
I know not
Let me curse thy
attitude
Bold in thy voice
and
Sweet in thy talk
It’s not your fault
Let Him face the
wrath
Hark, it’s dark
A line, you
shouldn’t cross
Patriarchal, we are
Where, you should
smile
But not laugh,
You may talk, but
We don’t hear,
Learn and not speak
Teach but not
preach
‘know, where you
are
No safe to stay, as
you are
Here, you have
No choice to make and
No route to take
Be happy you fairy,
A ‘pepper spray’
you carry
Go as far as you
can
To live as long as
you can
It’s the fate of
your design
Yet it’s not so
easy as to resign.
No comments:
Post a Comment