Woman

I am used as a commodity,

Considered mere property

Of man

He keeps me locked

In the kitchen and halls,

Enclosed in his

The home’s four walls

He claims, this is

All for my safety

But,

He imprisons me

In his custody,

As his nurse, his maid, his keep,

I want to live, I want to breathe

Serving Him is not

My sole duty

I, too, want fun,

I want to be free

Outside home

Men point finger

Seeing me alone

They hover,

They linger

In the name of liberation

They commercialise me,

Making me independent

They industrialise me

So, outside the home, at me

They laugh and scoff

But, at home, too,

I am not better off

Then what’s the difference

What I do

Hence,

Don’t preach, man, and

Don’t be inconsiderate

Just understand that

I am desperate