Womanhood, this side.

 

With the nails, unpainted, no hue to obscure
What vibgyor meant, in another gist-abhorred.
Why colours matter on my dead old cell-mate?
When all the gray matter, matters at the end of the date.

Way the nails are painted, doesn’t shout my gender
Likewise, your chitter-chatter alone, baptise you no egalitarian
I am no Femi-nazi as you try to label
For what you have heard of Holocaust, is no fable.

No pancakes baked on my face, no selfie syndrome yet
Probably a misfit, amidst your ongoing folklore
Well, the Maverick inside tries to ascertain another tale
Without a doubt, framed for being such a chase.

My preference straight, for those who question
Not yet sexually abused, to get all tension
Why a fuss, over monthly dispense
No treason made, it’s just my bleeding trail..

The woman dwelling inside, says, she is like every other
But you mark with words stronger than my maneuver.
I care not, I care not..
But, the human inside burns with THIS imbalance, THIS polarity,
THIS weaker blot.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s