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The Epitome of the Essence of Women
The Epitome of the Essence of Women
The women inside me
Sometimes get mold up,
By the societal barriers
To pretend to be the best,
Best version of an epitome feminine character,
Regardless of what I actually feel.
Whatever I actually feel is thwarted,
Thwarted because it doesn't suit
Doesn't suit with the ideally, ideally
Created posters hailing an epitome character
But what about the women?
A human with flesh and blood, with feelings
Why should she feel in a certain way?
Framed up by so-called patriarchal society
And why does she want to be?
<p>Want to be the one this society wants
Why not be ourselves?
Why not create our own norms?
Why not come closer and decide what we want
Why not create our own sphere
Where we can shout out for love
Not a judgment
That this world has failed to give, in the run
For perfection and class and standard.
Our mind has ceased to remember
Being a human with all pure feelings,
Not a puppet of standards.
Lastly, I want to conclude my poem by telling everyone that nothing is more important than making up space in society and cementing yourself
