I lie on my bed
I get some thoughts in my head
I try to drive them away
But they go on to stay
They keep haunting me
The words keep daunting me
I take out a paper and a pen
write the thought down, then
I read it, doesn't sound that bad
feeling content and glad
I go back to my bed
And fall asleep with an empty head
After dawn, when I feel unruffled and sane
I take out the paper and read it again
It sounds terrible, I want to cry
Nonetheless I give it another try
Reading it again, It sounds even worse
Ashamed of my 3 am self and her words
Registering the lack of passion they display
Disgusted, I post them anyway

You are not perfect

Just real

TDPR

Patriarchy is no glass ceiling
That you can shatter in one half-hearted blow
Or a fragile soap bubble
That you can pop easily with your acrylic nail
Instead it's a concrete roof
Built to trap your soul
To make you feel less of a human
And more of an object
It's a concrete roof with numerous cracks in it
Made by the women who came before us
And the women who live among us
For centuries they have spent their lives
Trying to build those cracks
So that light can enter
In our gloomy fates
And you have to do the same
For the women yet to come
So bring in your hammer, girl
We have some work to do
By some I mean a lot of it
We have to work for nights and days
Until the concrete crumbles to dust
And humanity breathes in free air
But don't you worry or freak out
Cause no matter how tough concrete is
The spirit of women will always be stronger

Sometimes, I feel
that intoxication would burn down my pain
only to find out
that it can reemerge from the ashes
unless it's treated with love