Woman:
am I icon of the sex?
Don’t name
me mother
Don’t dub
me sister
In
natural, I had husband and sons
Today
they are rapist and molester
And my
hands are hand cuffed
Revolutionize
never comes to me
Now I’m
a sex doll in brothels
And I’m
speechless maid in every domicile.
I don’t
have a shadow of womanhood
Buy me
and sell me out like a calf
Even my
daughter is a queen of the dark world
Womanhood
flies up with the smoke of kitchen
Carnivorous
are thirst for us
Like
chicken meat of the bars
I with
my daughter won’t move
We
couldn’t go among the men animals.
Sometimes
I’m a dead stone
No hemoglobin,
no cells, no tissues,
No DNA,
my hormones are my foe-
In
vegetable vendors and grocery shops,
Avails among
the objects and sold.
Inside
the men’s pocket and inner wearer,
Sticks and
bears since centuries over centuries.
In
between the turbine of washing machines,
My
appeals have been collapsing.
Under
the roof of lavatory and public toilets,
Everyone
plays me, kept me nude.
As a
massager in days an nights
And
only be a procreator, named: Woman.
When I
would be free from the societal cage?
From
the beds & bodies of cannibals!
When I
could walk in democracy?
On
those narrow Streets of the city,
When
the wild dogs dance in midnight!
Still
they are in excitement of my membrane
To lactate
them like a baby,
Over
their adolescent till late sixties
Don’t name
me mother!
Don’t
dub me sister!
Woman:
am I jailbird of the men?
..................................................
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