I'm struggling with what it means to be a woman.
Does it mean that I am always in competition to be the top of my species?
Does it mean that I need to be perfect without a single curve out of line in order to find love?
Does it mean that I am only defined when owned by a man?
Does it mean that I can only find purpose in childbirth?
Does it mean that I will forever live in the shadow of men?
Does it mean that I am an object invented solely for a man's pleasure?
Does it mean that I'm forced to confine to gender roles and live in someone else's story?
Does it mean that I'm supposed to accept it when I'm harassed from across the street?
Does it mean that I'm supposed to lie there silent when he puts his hands up my skirt?
Does it mean that I am only worth 77 cents to a man’s dollar?
Does it mean that I am defined by my looks rather than my intelligence?
Does it mean that I will never be capable of holding a major position of power due to my mood swings?
Does it mean that I am defined by how many men I have had *** with?
Or does it mean something else entirely.
It's difficult learning to love being a woman.
Obvious and damaging disadvantages are visible to observers.
We are regarded as second best, property of our man.
We are erased from history, our pain is minimized and forgotten.
We are oppressed and have to fight for our rights.
We are afraid to walk the streets at night, afraid for our lives.
We are harassed without care and without penalty.
We are ***** and murdered for refusing proposals.
We are expected to live on the sidelines as a housewife whose only priority should be her children.
We are expected to keep quiet in situations of domestic abuse.
We are expected to be perfect, and pretty, fresh for a man’s picking.
We can’t even advocate for our own equality without being demonized.
There are times where I wish I wasn’t a woman.
Being a woman comes with innumerable expectations, pressures, and responsibilities.
My existence is not defined by a man, or by the patriarchal expectations that have been placed on me.
I am breaking free of my confinements and I’m not afraid to admit that,
I'm struggling with what it means to be a woman. And that's okay.
//sarahmann

Logic,
That tired practice
That keeps busy bodies satisfied
Until they find love.

Love,
The only illogical action
That anyone has been sure of
That has made a mockery of reason.

Reason,
A cause for change
There is no reason
The Sun doesn’t ask the Earth
For a repayment
For the life it gives
Such a lack of reason,
Such a gift.

To give,
That which is a pure act
Of provision
Senseless and costly
But what light
What life is begotten
By such a pure act
Of honesty.

Honesty,
That which is raw,
It is only honesty
That is exempt from values
A history that is the only constant.

Consistency,
The only thing you can predict
When **** hits the fan
What will withstand
Who will out boast the highest bidder,
What a patient power.

Power,
The only thing which can be truly stolen
Yet you will always have it
The beat in our chest
May be silenced
But the formation of mountains
Will still shake your sepulcher.
True power
Deals in patience.

Patience,
A knowledge of
And trust in
What is larger than this
The entropic force
That will make relevant
What is essential.

Essentially,
This is a love poem
Whom it is for
Only time will tell.

Hush now
In this pain
There’s a broken bone
Felt on me
Where we’ve been
Fascinations
In the faithless age
Guess again
At your fingertips
As the lake
Flows on away my friend
Men grow old
Every child knows the end
Drive fast
While we stand here
Someone help
Get me out of here
Our spirits name it
And it’s so huge and wide
I’ll make it great
Go back
Dot the I’s
Darling
In the sea air
Liar
Kiss her
Shine against her
It’s hard to tell
Get off
Tired games
Goodbye