If I am to eat my words up
till my belly is full of poison,
and yet, not speak
because that would make me a misfit,
a rebel for whom it was too much
to make a life inside
the golden cage
this society designed for me,
then what is the point of having a voice at all?
What is the point
of being born as a dragon,
of having the power
to burn the world down,
and yet, being scared of
those feeble shackles
set upon my body
before I even learned to fly?
What good did the boys do then,
that they are allowed to touch me, violate me,
shout out that they would like to fuck me as I pass by,
and I am asked to just shut up,
for in this world dominated by men,
a weak, defenceless woman like me
cannot afford to draw attention to herself?
It is for your own good, they say.
If I am to stay quiet
and live by the rules written by men,
then it’s better I don’t live at all
(for my own good).
For one day, when I decide I’ve had enough,
the world as you know it will turn to ashes
and from the debris,
like a phoenix reborn,
all the dragon women
whom you tried to crush beneath your boots
will rise —
this time, not to be put down again.
This time, not to be put down ever.
This is one of my more experimental pieces — more prose than poem, and yet, this took me longer and a lot more effort to write. Comments of any kind are welcome.
Author’s Note: If you like what I write, you might enjoy some of my best poems which are curated in my book: Stolen Reflections: Some Stories Are Told in Verse. Please do leave a review if you enjoyed the book.