The Burden of Woman

I'm so tired of living inside of this box,

Enduring constant headaches

From frequent headlocks.

Entombed within a wall of soft flesh,

Spoken to like a child...

...In a crèche.

And when a hand creeps onto my thigh....

I must abide this nonsense,

But, wait! Why?

"Sit down!"

"Be quiet!"

"Move out of the way!"

"You'll have to tone it down

If you want a man to stay."

"Make yourself less-than, so that you don't hurt his pride."

"Look helpless, be a doting bride."

"You're a bit too intimidating,

Men don't really like that."

"Don't ever be yourself, you'll come off as mad!"

"You're too ladylike, but also too 'lad'."

So,

Tell me again,

What am I 'supposed' to do?

Encase myself in glass, like an exhibit at the zoo?

Make myself worthy?

Stand out of the way?

And when they ask me my thoughts,

Claim I have nothing to say?

Tuck myself behind this glass wall?

Make myself small?

Be no bother at all?

"Yes. Good girl.

Now see, its working...!

Here he comes all handsome and tall..."

But this is not what I wanted,

I don't want this at all.

Approach me as I am,

Otherwise, don't approach at all.