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Mary Huxley Aug 26
They hate us,  
Yes, they despise us,  
They copy us,  
They want to be like us,  
They can’t stand when we breathe.  

I know you are wondering who “they” might be,  
But I’ll tell you what “they” do to us:  
They have stolen and are still stealing our identity.  
They **** us, oppress us, and take our hard-earned positions.  

To them, we are just objects,  
Goods of no value.  
When they bark, they expect us to respond.  
They have caged us, taken the very little freedom we had.  
They don’t care about us.  

When will they leave us alone?
This poem is inspired by what women endure, on day to day basis,.
Its sickening and sad.
"Why do they hate us"
Mary Huxley Aug 26
In shadows deep, where whispers fade,  
Behind the walls, the women pray.  
Their dreams are bound in chains of fear,  
In lands where hope can't find its way.

A world that stifles every voice,  
Their cries of pain, without a choice.  
Beneath the veils, their stories hide,  
Silent tears they cannot show with pride.

For freedom's price is far too steep,  
A life where courage dares not speak.  
Each step they take, with cautious tread,  
In lands where even thoughts are bled.

Their wings are clipped by heavy laws,  
Yet still, they rise—despite the scars.  
With hearts of fire, unbroken will,  
Though pain runs deep, they're standing still.

In every glance, in every tear,  
Resilience grows where hate draws near.  
In the silence, strength is found—  
Women rise without a sound.

For even in the darkest night,  
They hold within a spark of light.  
No chain can hold what’s meant to soar,  
A flame that fights forevermore.
Mary Huxley Aug 26
They walk in shadows cloaked in pride,  
With fists clenched tight and eyes turned wide,  
Their words like chains, so hard, so cold,  
Bending wills, as stories unfold.  

They claim dominion over our grace,  
Silencing voices, erasing a face.  
What power feeds this hunger deep,  
That in our tears, their demons sleep?  

To them, we’re vessels, tools, and means,  
Yet fragile hearts wear warrior’s sheen.  
They crush with deeds, they carve with hate,  
Unleashing darkness at heaven’s gate.  

How cruel the hand that wounds and maims,  
That calls love power, masked in shame.  
How can a world still turn its eye,  
When every scream’s a whispered cry?  

They fear our strength, our rise, our fire,  
So they chain our souls to quench desire.  
But we are oceans, wild and deep—  
Rising tides they cannot keep.  

In silent wars, we fight to breathe,  
With every bruise, our spirits seethe.  
Yet even when they draw their line,  
They’ll never steal what’s truly mine.  

For in these scars, our voices rise—  
No more the prey, no more disguise.  
Though fear may reign, though shadows fall,  
We stand together—unbreakable, all.
This poem expresses the pain and struggle many women face but also highlights the resilience and strength within them.
Mary Huxley Aug 25
Even in sadness I still think about you,
In the midst of the storm I still find warmth in you,
I can't fathom how much broken you left me,
I remember when you said I was your peace,
And now I can't find myself in this chaos,
Who do I run to,
Who do I cry to,
When you the only one my heart beat for.
Mary Huxley Aug 25
In love with every version of me,
Every character that grew within me,
They call it trauma, the scars we bear,
Each chapter a story, each burden we share.

Eyes seek solace in the depths of the soul,
A journey of healing, making broken parts whole.
Words like whispers, echoes of the past,
In the tapestry of life, memories amassed.

So here's a tale of strength and grace,
In loving our whole, finding our place.
In the symphony of selves, scars turned to art,
Embracing every fragment, a journey of the heart.
Mary Huxley Aug 25
If
If I was to give you my all, would you accept?
If I was to mould you a world of your desire,
Would you live in it?
If I was to give you half of my kingdom would you be my queen?
If I was to give you a piece of heaven would you be my peace?

Just if,
There is no one so precious,
Just no one,
I have seen all,
But no one caught my sight as you did,
I can’t blame my heart for loving you,
Neither can I blame my mind for thinking about you.

You are a rare gem,
Your rhuemy eyes full of glam,
I’ll die for you if I had to,
Making you mine is a must,
It’s a do that must be done.

Would you say yes to my proposal,
Would you be the flower in my vineyard,
Would you be that lilly in my valley?

If,
Just if?
Would you complete me?
Mary Huxley Aug 25
I'm also not aware,
But one thing I know,
You are gonna figure it out.
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