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Malia Mar 4
This is the law that supersedes all
Other laws:
Thou shalt not complain.

Thou shalt have a successful career
𝘢𝘯𝘥
Shalt be a perfect mother.

Thou shalt be innocent and experienced,
Rebellious—
But not too much.

Thou shalt never need help.

Thou shalt never age
Yet maintain a veneer
Of self-acceptance.

Thou shalt not be overly
Emotional
But thou art not permitted to be
Robotic.

Thou shalt be assertive
But lo upon the woman
Who dares express anger.

Thou shalt have infinite patience.

Thou shalt be progressive without
Challenging the status quo.

Thou shalt carry thy burdens with
Immeasurable strength and without
Disintegration or failure.

And ye shalt do these things, that
Ye might become the 21st Century
Woman.
Amir Murtaza Feb 23
She loves to play with colors,
and her favorite is blue.
She loves her blue jeans,
a gift from her mother.

Her mother works
in a garment factory,
where women are paid
less than men.

She dreams of a world
where colors don’t fade with injustice.
Gender-based inequality thrives where rights are unequal and voices go unheard.
owls at dawn Feb 2
I woke from a dream this morning
with three penises
and three sets of testicles
sprouting from my groin

I was astonished
wondering about the implications
could they all perform?
could I have *** with three women?
or three men?
which gender did these penises prefer?
and how would that work?

or would I be too embarrassed by this mutation to ever have *** again?
I imagined a hand touching down there and felt
extreme embarrassment
no, this was definitely the end of my *** life
I would never have *** again

then something shifted
in my mind
and I woke
from THAT dream
original factory settings restored (I checked)

relieved (so relieved)

this was one problem the universe had not thrown in my lap (haha)
I can still see those tiny peckers though
like a bouquet of newborn masculinity

what high jinks
are going on
at the bottom of the ocean in my brain?
My life has been long and hard.
But i have survived.
My life has been stressful, and difficult.
But i have survived.
My life has been short.
but it feels long and wasted.
My life has had its ups, and downs.
every night, i lay in bed, and wonder
"Will this be my final breath?"
"Will this be the ending of it all?"
"Will this be the end of the girl named lucy?"
I just wish, that i could be free.
Free from this body.
Free from this deadname.
Free from male pronouns.
Free from this male body.
But i will never truly be free.
as long as i live.
This is like a vent but also kinda me dumping my sorrows on the internet.
hello poetry is like a safespace for me rn.
My pain Is Eternal.
But no one can see it. no one can feel it.
Only I can see and feel this pain.
Only I can hear it laughing at me when i look in the mirror.
Only i can feel it when someone calls me the wrong name.
only i can fix it.
but there is no hope for me.
my family cannot see or hear this pain.
only i can.
only i can fix it.
but there is no hope for this mess.
My gender dysphoria has been getting worse.
This poem describes my pain.
K E Cummins Jan 11
Am I too much?
Hard to swallow, a bitter pill?
Am I raw and unprocessed,
Undiluted, concentrated,
Too spicy for your stomach?

Good.

Choke on it.

I won’t cut myself
To bite-size pieces.
I am not a convenient product.

My feathers are not plucked,
My hair is unshorn,
My feet are unshod,
And the muscle of my thigh
Is for kicking, not meat.

Do you not like the taste?
Poor spoiled glutton,
You cannot acquire it.

Find your refined sugar elsewhere –
I do not come pre-packaged.
Got a bit *******
Audrey Dec 2024
Ladies! We were made to be eaten
Chewed up by men
Spit out
Objectified
Beaten the crap out
Put down

Who are we to judge?
We were made in God's image
We were made in man's image
We were never made in our own image

Lay down your sticks
Open your thighs
And scream at the injustice in the world
Silently
gender
Sara Barrett Nov 2024
Growing up, a girl watches, learns,
The truths of boys and men—
so often unturned.

“Boys will be boys,”
a phrase we know,
implying girls must shoulder the load.

Girls mature fast,
women pick up the cast—
an unspoken burden, a silent decree:

Bear the weight of their irresponsibility.

In a world gripped by misogyny,
women face judgment,
their futures unclasped.

Absorbing shame for games they play,
men walk away, free to go their way.

Homes abandoned,
men now free,
their true selves unknown.

Disgrace drapes women—a heavy yoke,
neglect shatters hope.

Promises unkept,
fathers vanish as children wept.
Guilt escaped with practiced ease,
duty dodged, a ghost on the breeze.

Children and wife he never knew,
society laughs at the pain he withdrew.

Children carry his woes—
identities shaped by the hurt he chose.
Shame shouldered early,
remembering blame.

Love claimed,
but never there.
Strain felt in his name,
unfairness echoes.

Abandoned women and children grow—
a daunting endeavor men overthrow.

Shadows linger, burdens remain;
a future carved where hope will maintain.

Every struggle faced—a dawn,
strength carries on.
The poem “Left To Carry His Name” delves into the profound burdens that women and children endure as a result of men’s irresponsibility. This poem critiques the societal norms that enable men to escape accountability while women are left to shoulder the emotional and social consequences of abandonment. Through vivid imagery, it conveys the shame and struggle experienced by those who are left behind, underscoring their resilience as they strive for a brighter future. As the second piece in a series focused on gender roles and family dynamics, this work invites readers to reflect on how we can confront and change these deeply ingrained societal expectations.
Sara Barrett Nov 2024
In a society,
There’s a tree called misogyny,
Where its deep roots
Grow into all girls,
Who develop in agony,
Facing judgment that feels relentless,
Much of it unspoken, a harsh irony.
This judgment seeps into our daily strife,
Trapping us within roles that limit our life.
Narrow expectations stifle our dreams,
While society’s pressure bursts at the seams.
We’re told how to act, what to say and wear,
As if our true selves are too much to bear.
Dreams of freedom fuel our inner symphony,
A quest to end this cycle of regulatory authority.
She bears the weight of expectations,
A load shaped by herstory’s complications.
With a heavy heart, she watched the tragedy,
As blame is passed down through each family.
Inheriting struggles, a cycle we see,
Each woman’s journey marked by disparity.
Disappointments linger, like shadows they stay,
A legacy of women woven in silence and gray.
The silence among women she cherished felt heavy,
An unspoken vow that let men be merry
Free from their own responsibility,
Caught in a system that kept them confined,
With “They didn’t know better” echoing in mind.
Hiding complicity in voices suppressed,
In a world where their wisdom was rarely expressed.
Each story unspoken, a weight they all share,
Navigating life with caution and care.
Yet deep in their hearts lies a yearning to be,
More than the shadows of what they could see.
In the silence, a strength that quietly grows,
A call for the change that each woman knows.
This poem, ‘Roots of Misogyny,’ explores the deep-seated nature of misogyny and its impact on women’s lives across generations. Inspired by the stories of women in my life, it reflects on societal expectations and the silent strength that grows within. As the first piece in a series examining gender roles and family dynamics, I hope it prompts reflection on how we can challenge and change these ingrained societal norms.
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