Oct 2015
Inhale
One eye opens
Pick yourself up
Legs swing sideways
The singer hits a high note
Hit the snooze button
Grab a toothbrush
Pick the paste
Rinse and repeat
Smile
Floss
Rinse and repeat
Dry your face
Face wash - $6: to brighten your complexion
Banish oil from your sleeping pores
Concealer and Foundation - $24
A fresh face can open many doors
Mascara, Eyes, and Brows
12
7
5
Bat them nice and pretty
How happy to be alive
In this day and age
You want the spotlight?
They give you backstage
Point your attention to the nearest exits
As the audience laughs at those
Who waste and mar your presence
In the eye of the storm
For every Pakistani baby that is born
The chances of their mother to still be breathing
Are low to none
Accompanied with every passing minute for a female child
Who will never be fully grown
But if by some chance she does survive
She will never know, or make, or expect
To be treated with as much respect as the guys
And knowledge will be limited by money
And white people who trade books for religious pledges different than her own
She moves and tries with each sun and moon
She finds herself inside a room
A glowing screen and a telephone
In a small moment of peace she tries to remember what her home looks li….
“Ma’am? Ma’am? Can you repeat that please, I can’t understand your accent?”
So when she hangs up in a huff
And turns around to face her lovely husband
And 3 beautiful kids
She opens her mouth to complain about the foreigner
Only to hear that he has had enough
And as the breakfast she made for them at 5 o’clock in the morning
Slips off his plate and onto the floor
She reminds herself
“Yes, I know. This is life. This is love.”
And she will not question
And she will not fight
Because they preach you all of your rights
And since she was taught to read and write
She should at least remember some of them
Right?
No.
For as a wee girl sitting in a corner
With bruises on her wrists, her thighs, and ego
Her first thought was not law, but
“why?”
Why do we cling to a culture of corruption and confusion?
In this time of hypocrisy and delusion
Which is older than the words themselves
But when written together
Become every woman’s personal brand of hell?
Because they tell you who you are and where you’re from
Plus, where you’ve been and whom you’ve known matter
So choose carefully and don’t walk around in a miniskirt
In the middle of the night
You ****
With feminine modesty
Pink is the color of choice
Especially in the hearts of those young boys
Who wanted nothing but to please their fathers
Even if they asked for an easy bake oven
And their mother shook her head as he pleaded for a toy
Clearly not made for a young boy
It’s hard to look into the talking screen
And tune out only parts you want to hear
Without fueling the colossus of a machine
That has been raising us like lambs for slaughter
But I am not just a father’s daughter
And for every voice that is silenced in fear, in anger and in plight
Ours will echo that much more loudly in the night
Put down your bag
Set the alarm
Close your eyes
Exhale
One eye opens
Pick yourself up
Legs swing sideways
The singer hits a high note
Hit the snooze button
Grab a toothbrush
Pick the paste
Rinse and repeat
Smile
Floss
Rinse and repeat
Dry your face
Face wash - $6: to brighten your complexion
Banish oil from your sleeping pores
Concealer and Foundation - $24
A fresh face can open many doors
Mascara, Eyes, and Brows
12
7
5
Bat them nice and pretty
How happy to be alive
In this day and age
You want the spotlight?
They give you backstage
Point your attention to the nearest exits
As the audience laughs at those
Who waste and mar your presence
In the eye of the storm
For every Pakistani baby that is born
The chances of their mother to still be breathing
Are low to none
Accompanied with every passing minute for a female child
Who will never be fully grown
But if by some chance she does survive
She will never know, or make, or expect
To be treated with as much respect as the guys
And knowledge will be limited by money
And white people who trade books for religious pledges different than her own
She moves and tries with each sun and moon
She finds herself inside a room
A glowing screen and a telephone
In a small moment of peace she tries to remember what her home looks li….
“Ma’am? Ma’am? Can you repeat that please, I can’t understand your accent?”
So when she hangs up in a huff
And turns around to face her lovely husband
And 3 beautiful kids
She opens her mouth to complain about the foreigner
Only to hear that he has had enough
And as the breakfast she made for them at 5 o’clock in the morning
Slips off his plate and onto the floor
She reminds herself
“Yes, I know. This is life. This is love.”
And she will not question
And she will not fight
Because they preach you all of your rights
And since she was taught to read and write
She should at least remember some of them
Right?
No.
For as a wee girl sitting in a corner
With bruises on her wrists, her thighs, and ego
Her first thought was not law, but
“why?”
Why do we cling to a culture of corruption and confusion?
In this time of hypocrisy and delusion
Which is older than the words themselves
But when written together
Become every woman’s personal brand of hell?
Because they tell you who you are and where you’re from
Plus, where you’ve been and whom you’ve known matter
So choose carefully and don’t walk around in a miniskirt
In the middle of the night
You ****
With feminine modesty
Pink is the color of choice
Especially in the hearts of those young boys
Who wanted nothing but to please their fathers
Even if they asked for an easy bake oven
And their mother shook her head as he pleaded for a toy
Clearly not made for a young boy
It’s hard to look into the talking screen
And tune out only parts you want to hear
Without fueling the colossus of a machine
That has been raising us like lambs for slaughter
But I am not just a father’s daughter
And for every voice that is silenced in fear, in anger and in plight
Ours will echo that much more loudly in the night
Put down your bag
Set the alarm
Close your eyes
Exhale
(2010-2012) Collection
