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.