Do you breathe in whistles, sir?
Because every time I walk by that is all I hear.
Every time I take a step it is just too clear
that I am a dog in a pet shop
your "Princess" or "Baby" that has been dropped
from the heavens to have you
welcome a whistle into her daily walk
a whistle followed by a bitch thought because "Baby"
didn't follow you back to your spot
Maybe you should ask a doctor about your whistling
because it should stop
Are you thirsty, sir?
Because when you see me you lick your lips
You swallow down all of my body down to my hips
I didn't know I was a mannequin at Macy's
I didn't know I was an actress on a big screen
Paid to be your thirty-second glance of pleasure
while sir, I'm just trying to measure
how much time it will take before
i break from your hazy
neverending stare that reminds me
that you are wrong
I am a human, sir.
A living, breathing, struggling, human
In humanity there are rules that men do not abide by
but of course humans do
With your big macho wife-beater and Levi jeans
little do you know, I am not what I seem
condensed into a 5'5 TV screen is a woman, sir
I have earned my place next to Beyonce
in running the world and taking your name
carrying your children and going to work the next day
I am a woman, sir.
I abide by the laws of physics and matter
Not by instagram likes and follower chatter
My photos are not an invitation to get a photo of your
lower Facebook feeds
It is no compliment to me, sir
It is no compliment, but an air raid of a century
of feminism being ignored by a
man who is thirsty and whistles when he breathes