Am I suffering beautifully? Do I wear my agony like a crown? Adorn it with pearls and jewels, And parade it into town?
Is my pain reasonable enough? Do I raise it up or tone it down? Iβll try to cry pretty, tiny tears, In fact, I'd do it in my gown!
For even in despair, I should be desirable, Dare not to be emotional, dare not to make a sound. To be a woman is to bleed, but glamorously. There shall be glitters in the meltdown.
A poem about how society expects womenβs pain to be palatable.