Women are delicate flowers
that break with the movement of wind,
a simple touch and we fall apart.
We come in all different shapes, sizes, and colors
patiently waiting for someone to choose the one they like most.
Women are gifts hidden at the bottom of the tree.
Wrapped up in beautiful paper,
and topped off with a bow.
One by one, we are handed to such strangers,
praying we’re exactly what they wished for.
Women are apples hanging on branches,
picked from the bottom to the top.
The ones of best quality don’t get chosen,
because they’re outsides, don’t match their insides.
Women are sex symbols in today’s world.
Nothing but a simple catcall.
We live to please the average man,
but if a woman isn’t a virgin when she begins to go steady
suddenly, she’s gross, a hoe, and completely undateable.
Women are unfit to be attorneys, CEOs, governors, senators, or presidents.
We are better off in the kitchen making breakfast, lunch and dinner.
Or getting pampered with our husbands money.
Women can’t be in charge of anything except their own children.
We’re too dainty.
Women have started to accept that this is the way is meant to be.
We’re supposed to let men handle everything, while we just look pretty.
But in the 19th century we were fighters, advocates, and leaders.
We took charge of our lives, and made our own decisions.
We fought until we won, and created a more equal world.
But we’re falling behind, and letting masculinity over run our feminism.
I’m not saying to hell with exquisite traits,
but I am saying we must change the way the world sees us.
We must remind those of who we are, and the giant punch we pack.
We must fight against the odds, and crusade until we win.
We must strive for eminence and nobility in the political world.
Women aren’t delicate flowers. Women are leaders.