Women’s Day they cheer,
Fortune favors the brave;
And yet this “kick-ass” woman,
Cannot her sanity save.
I marvel at the ladies
That saunter tough with grace,
I fail at half they do
And scamper to save face.
Fear and anxiety
Are my eternal mates,
I can’t help but wonder,
At folks who accept their fates.
I am my self’s enemy,
I am my own friend,
Everything starts with me,
And I beget my own end.
I’m tired of fighting my soul,
A creature so wild and free;
Taming it takes up all I got,
And leaves not an ounce of peace wee.
Torn between good and immoral,
I toil and douse the fire in my heart;
Doing what the world deems right,
Yet feel so empty in every part.
My soul claims each breath,
Every step I take is mine,
And still at the close of it all,
Nothing seems fine.
Coz some like me who appear,
To have it all together;
Are the weakest when dawn breaks,
As we assemble in our cap each feather.
When the sun comes up,
We rise with determination new,
Wish all the good we do unto you,
Would come back to us someday, too.
For now we wait and watch,
And go with the flow but fickle;
Veiling our powers and dreams,
That you sell for a dime and nickel.
More power to all of us, ladies.
And the men, who sometimes need more confidence, support and
motivation than the erstwhile “weaker” sex.
Love,
Princess
1 comment:
A nice poem that I enjoyed reading. I like the rhymes.
Thank you. Love love, Andrew. Bye.
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