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Our advice is loose a few pounds You're too round, they said They frowned and drowned your silhouette We'll kick you to the ground Our advice is take up less space Women with grace should know their place You're a disgrace A women should not leave a trace, For this is a mans place Our advice is speak less Your opinions are too excess Just go fix your dress You have men to impress Don't depress them with your free thoughts Our advice is cater to your surroundings These stings of femininity are your duty But you see you cannot flee They key to your freedom Hangs around the neck of **** Beaten till you're numb Look what I've become Come come, look what you've made us do Beat you till you're blue, because you flew My advice is, crush the bones of your oppressors Put on your armours, grab your spurs Smash the words of your oppressors You deserve answers not slurs My advice is gracefully place your furs on your throne, built of their souls Throw away their scrolls into the coals Admire the fire within your porcelain chest And create a bonfire for the blessed Their advice is done, you are no longer their nun Now teach these to your son Or he may too be, thrown into the sun. -CP.
0
May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 5:16 PM UTC
Our advice is
Our advice is loose a few pounds You're too round, they said They frowned and drowned your silhouette We'll kick you to the ground Our advice is take up less space Women with grace should know their place You're a disgrace A women should not leave a trace, For this is a mans place Our advice is speak less Your opinions are too excess Just go fix your dress You have men to impress Don't depress them with your free thoughts Our advice is cater to your surroundings These stings of femininity are your duty But you see you cannot flee They key to your freedom Hangs around the neck of **** Beaten till you're numb Look what I've become Come come, look what you've made us do Beat you till you're blue, because you flew My advice is, crush the bones of your oppressors Put on your armours, grab your spurs Smash the words of your oppressors You deserve answers not slurs My advice is gracefully place your furs on your throne, built of their souls Throw away their scrolls into the coals Admire the fire within your porcelain chest And create a bonfire for the blessed Their advice is done, you are no longer their nun Now teach these to your son Or he may too be, thrown into the sun. -CP.
#poem#poetry#feminism#feminist#patriarchy#cp
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CP
26/F
May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 5:16 PM UTC
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