To be a Woman
I sat in my room staring at my reflection
To be a woman is to be compliant.
With every breath think not of oxygen,
But of the way you look while taking it.
Dress not in what you enjoy,
But in what others will enjoy to see you in.
When you look in the mirror, critique every visible sign that you are real
Because beauty does not lie in your eyes but in those that lie upon you.
I look down upon myself with rigid eyes
I am beautiful
With every beat of my heart a beam of grace radiates through my veins,
out every pore in my skin
and captures every person near me,
draws them in,
Only for them to discover that I am unreachable.
My thoughts are the jacket placed over a puddle to keep the feet of the important dry
while my ideas become drenched with the very hope
that they will look down, notice, and deem them vital.
My body is not my own but a servant
to whoever wants her for a moment
before being thrown aside and labelled unworthy.
My brain scribbles blueprints of my thoughts as consistently as a clock ticks.
The notepads of my originality fill my body
and spill out my mouth to inspire the books behind others’ eyes
I am content when knowing that you are living up to your potential.
My warmth cools to only reach slightly beyond my body
as the clock that is my mind slows.
Gradually I grow tired of inspiring until finally
But you were never told to slow yourself so
your mind and ideas continue to overflow
and the excess heat touches my skin,
seeps into my body
and reminds me of a time when I too was allowed to be myself
To be a woman is to be silenced
Now the thought of what could’ve been
is the only thing occupying my quiet, compliant mind.