Her Right to the Proof She Remains Blind to

Sun, 06/01/2014 - 21:02 -- Queen A

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Why should I have to prove myself?

Must it be the silk of my skin that defines me

Must it be the way that my locks tumble down the curves of my hips

And all our lives we are measured by our grades

By the mind, we must carry A’s

But by the bust of a woman, must it be so wrong to carry one?

Every day we are unfairly dignified by the unchanging destiny of our physiques

And every day this creature known as woman submits to this qualification

Either we win or we don’t

But may I ask why this is the case?

Why can’t the ebony creature of the night prowl with her untamed mane

Every kink and twist of her tresses reminds us of her wild origins

Oh but she hides this in fear

Every morning she straightens her hair in hopes to carry traits like those of her porcelain sister

And the fine white china succumbs to the thought that her curves define her

She hopes in finding the raving attention of a man, only if she can just…..

Change the extremities of her back

Only if she arched just right here and rounded just right there

The truth is hidden from such striking creatures

Why must we succumb, when in pride we can strut with what we have

Why must we submit to the criteria when instead…….

We can ordain ourselves with the awe-strucking magnificence that we pertain

Why not compliment the features that we have in honor, pride, grace, and nobility?

But I no longer question myself, for I stand in my truth

But I ask you? Shall you stand in truth great creature?

 

 

 

 

 

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