They fit me into a mould
and bind me with intangible girdles,
a tiny bit I stray from the mould.
So I'm a bad woman.
My dreams weigh less,
my hopes even lesser.
All my wings are sweetly killed ,
cause I dared to step out of the line.
I'm a woman because of a man,
I exist for the pleasure of man.
I live due to the pittance of a man.
From the time I started to breathe,
I was a thing for everybody,
eager to wash their hands off me.
My voice crushed because it threatened,
the shackles of patriarchy.

Yet one day I hope to rise,
and break away my binds.
A place where I am considered,
not because of my sex,
but because who I am.
I want my presence to give joy to everyone
So now I will be the voice that struggles to be heard.
My strength is not within me
but with those nameless women
whose lives are my medium,
their words my sorrow.