Fine Men

Thu, 11/09/2023 - 07:49 -- zya162

 

Today's the day.

The day for play, the day for jumping around, if I may.

The sun is shining, the wind is clear, and I can’t help but notice the fine men up here. 

But out of the blue, Something askew, the pep in my step starts to redo. 

I look up again and the clouds are aware; there’s definitely something in the air.

I walk with caution, no longer with ease,

Why should I be forced on my knees?

I pull away, now aware, that there’s something tugging at my hair.

I turn around and he’s just there; there must be something in the air.

 

BAM

 

Why must a woman pull her pants down for a man? And 

 

WAM

 

Why can't we pull them up and "be a man?"

And, as quick as it started the sun’s out again.

The sun is shining, the wind is clear, but I don’t notice the fine men up here.

Instead I quiver, instead I shake,

 

Did no one notice how I break?

 

I feel exposed, I feel disclosed.

And yet, everything goes.

This poem is about: 
Our world

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