Oh my lovely ladies, strong and brute
Who hear the little voices shout,
"Just be cute."
Women who shun the razor
In favour of their nature,
And hear the little voices shout,
"That's not what you're about."
Girls who catch un-made-up reflections
And take pleasure in what they see,
While the little voices, locked away
Lie screaming, "you will never be free."
No, she knows, so long as she's here
Among the cacophony of views
Of femininity askewed
That the little voices, her falsest friends
with their neverending lists of
unpurchased deadends
Will dim to an undecipherable din
So that the only voice heard is that of
The girl, the woman, the lady
Pursuing her rightful destiny.
By: Andrea Werhun
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