Do not tell me to smile, I cannot.
He takes away my innocence, my hope.
His fingers on my skin feel like black rot.
They tell us that they cannot change, just cope.
I cannot be at the top of my class,
I am not a boss because I'm the bitch.
Answer the phone, you are fragile like glass.
Back straightened, smile on, I cannot unhitch.
Heels hurt my feet. I need this job, sir.
The cramps are back, they hurt, but I must dance.
Nothing else to do, for I am a 'her'.
With this body, I never had a chance.
One day I will have that strength and respect.
One day I will not be Mrs. Object.