The joys of being a woman

the joys of being a woman;
the eyes of a woman,
when they are in and out of ‘home’,
wandering around,
thinking that this might be the last moment,
she gets to live,
that she is left alone,
that she can breathe,

she can’t know if the next moment,
she is snatched out of her dearest life,
or she is deemed worthless,
or some man who thinks she’s nothing,
but only a thing to men,

the joys of being a woman;
of never having her life to be,
what she wants it to be,
of always putting someone and something above;
never looking at herself,
and think that she’s anything,
but a thing to men,

the joys of being a woman;
never knowing when you will be tossed around,
from one to another,
of who’s ‘protection’ they will be under,
and if she’s not under none,
then she is a woman deemed futile,

the joys of being a woman;
to give and to be able to give some more,
to let go of herself but not let others let go of theirs,
to be what others are,
but not like women who use their mouths,
to be like those who’s life is nothing,
but a thing to men