Short-handed

 

Let’s start this off a little cliche

And say that I live a lie

Full of shortcuts and

Stereotypes.

Already making my words

Sound like poetry.

A sort of pretentious

Word-itory.

But maybe I needed

A moment of self

Reflection. Some time

To take out my

Anger on the fact

That the things I like

Or the life that I live

Is brought into tatters,

A social mockery.

 

 

I ponder on what made

The boy think that

He had the right

To call me his property.

Disallow me from

Even formulating my own

Words because

Apparently that’s not

What the woman gets

To decide.

 

These social characterisations

That the media uses as

Shortcuts.

A way to get their

Meaning across quickly.

Because effort is

Overrated.

These little routes that

We have been brought

Up with seemingly

Teach us how we

Should act.

A lost sense of

What should obviously

Be morally right

And wrong contained

Behind the veil

Of the media.

 

If I am angry I

Have purpose to be.

I am not that annoying

Girl who won’t shut

Up.

 

 

I am well within my

Right to express

Emotion.

I don’t need to have

This granted to me

From someone else.

I don’t agree with these terms.

I am a woman scorned.

 

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