Give me your respect; I am a woman!

Even my shadow is a projection worthy of praise.

I have a story in my heart and you WILL listen.

I am the wicked witch; children are told to flee,

And I am feared.

 

I have a voice and my story will be told.

Do you know what I have suffered?

My hands do.

My heart bears the scars of a million battles,

All fought in silence and cold.

 

My eyes have seen things you do not know.

For they have seen their own sorrow.

I’m a girl--why respect me?

I’ve been slapped, belittled, bemused;

cocked and docked.

Just because I am small.

 

Trapped in the abyss of my own mind.

My hands are shaking, my voice is breaking.

Why respect me?

Because I have the courage to stand before judging eyes and tell a tale that’s been told over and over and over again.

But it is mine,

So I will tell it anyway.

 

And I don’t need your respect for that

People will flock to me like flies to honey,

and I will be LOVED.

Don’t give me your respect.

I don’t need it.

I need SELF-respect. I need confidence. I need to spread my wings out and sweep away the stars. And only I can give that to myself.

 

Give me your respect; I am a woman!

Even my shadow is a projection worthy of praise.

I have a story in my heart and you WILL listen.

I am the wicked witch; children are told to flee,

And I am feared.

 

This wicked witch is significant and powerful.

This wicked witch is worthy of praise.

This wicked witch can move mountains and shatter the heavens.

This wicked witch can lasso the moon and the waves will bend to my will.

 

This wicked witch has a voice.

This wicked witch has a story to tell,

And you WILL listen.