In terms of what we’re given;
Like animals on parade
we are all such fun entertainment
and at the end of every day
we return to our homes, our cages,
to be owned and never loved
to be adored into submission
to be placed above and beyond.
In terms of histories written;
we catch the end of the hide
like animals in museums our
bones are not rectified.
Death we are granted as models
to be observed like sideshow parts
we stand far gone but never at rest
our bodies displayed as taxidermy art.
In terms of memories given;
most cower to believe this is real.
We dance with freewill surrounding
never ours, we cannot feel.
Like animals as pets you see, we resolve
the lap dog breed. Toys we march,
parade and bow to our masters hands
and treats abounds.
In terms of everything we are;
captive like rats we pray we aren’t scarred
for beauty marks us prize or foul
we are governed by it now
valued based on size and smile
we are cattle, breeding the child,
ever beauty, ever young, ever owned
and battered on.
In terms of all our womanhood;
we march like ants you see. To work,
to play, to be okay, in everything we are.
Hold head up high,
hold nylon pride and everything restarts.
A beauty here, a witch, a sneer, and all the while
we are art.
Display us proudly, think not of it, our bodies we know
Take us with a grain of salt,
For that is womanhood.
(3 September 2013)