I am a Woman, not a Corpse

How ironic it is, People worship a God who is Woman and yet abuse a Woman who gave you birth

Once upon a time,
But not a very long time,
And still the story of present time,
Which tells how hard the women's legs
Are tied with chains and punished
When they dare to see a dream

Her brother go to school and carnivals
While she prepares meal for her hungry father
Her brother had been given freedom
While she did not know the meaning of that word.
Oh sorry my sister, wife and mother
For you to born here
Where men beat the girl
And makes her a breathing corpse

When the girl pick a pen,
This society beats her hand and
Force her to leave her future,
To serve her men,
In her young age, to make her a dependent women,
Oh my mother, I am not your child
Oh my sister, Please do not tie me the sacred thread of bonds
Oh my wife, do not take the seven wows
For I am a shame for you.

So to be a free woman,
In the country where women are living corpses,
Don't leave the pen when beaten,
Study instead cooking for a rotten men
And slap him twice as hard as he slaps you

All the men for their sister, mother and wife
And All the women for their rights
Let us break this system
And make a society of no superior gender.

Reviews

[Honey-Bee]

So true my dear! Women have suffered much by continually being pushed down through men and society. Perhaps it is an attitude and spirit and not just studying that helps them to rise above. Keep your head held high with the pen in hand. Good write!