Small but terrible/looking lovely open shirt/my darling bright wraith

I'm a Feminist
But
My ovaries are in pain.

I'm a woman
But
I don't feel connected to my main vein.
I'm bleeding in places much deeper than my-

I'd say the word
But i'll refrain.

Instead of being taught to embrace,
I've learned to drown
In
The
Pain
Of
Being
A
woman.

Soft
Weak
Instead of
strong
And unique.

Instead of taking agency,
I'm treated like an antique.
Fragile,
Even though i've survived
Everything men told me...

(I'll leave you to ponder but
won't describe. )

I love being a woman,
But it's a love/hate relationship
I can't lie. 
I take pride
But when my head hits the pillow,
I do cry.

In fact, I mourn.

I mourn the excitement society had for me when I was born.
Now i'm rejected,
Because of children i haven't ejected,
Penises i haven't erected,
a husband i haven't selected.

A pariah if you will,
But i have my own will.
Something women are shamed for because we feel,
Feel the need to take back our power
Because if we don't,
Someone else will,
Tell us
What to wear,
How to heal,
**** our souls until we cant feel,
Leaving us empty
Alone and afraid
Only to arrest us for a feminist parade.
I love being a woman
But my heart is in pain,
I find solace in the depths of a woman,
So I know i'll remain...

an unrepentant poet
walks among the world
seeing and not believing
anything perceived

he dreams of inconsistent
anomalies of existanse
sees to the end of time
in imaginary universe

and no one says a word

the story begins in this sentence
and ends when you stop reading
you are the creator of all that will be

the door opened and you were born
did you knock or just drop into
it does not matter you are here now

male or female or something else
life was needed and you became it
walk if you can is a metaphor

the world is but a reflex
and dreams are made by god small g
a mess of confusion is it's problem

When the cold seeps through your skin,
thinking how many times you've walked here alone
when you might have been lying in the arms of lovers,
warm and comforting,
don't sit there shivering.
You weren't meant for those chains.
  
You were meant to rise on cool mornings
and swim in deep, clear ponds,
to walk along mountains
and stand at the edges of cliffs,
to gaze at stars --
drawing strength from their fiery motion.

The nights are long but the days are longer
Only in her sleep does she exhale
The rest of the world loosening its grip

She thinks of false promises and shallow hopes
Things all too familiar by now
And swears to do better for her child

The baby on her back now a young woman too
Still her precious light and hope
"My only sunshine" in the dark

She feels her bones and flesh aching from the race
Her heart beats stronger than rising tides
An indomitable force pushing at an irrational object

And so she wakes, smiles at the sky
Fixing sunny side ups for her kin
To get by in spite of everything

is sometimes the bravest act of all

Covering ourselves in night cream, we fight our wrinkles, and buy anything that says anti-aging.
We want our skin to stay frozen.
Frozen in a time when we didn't even appreciate the glow of young skin.
Spent our entire youth hating what we saw in the mirror and doing everything we could to keep it covered.
Under thick masks and dark outlines we tried new products, techniques, designs,
Searching for one that made us feel pretty.
We let - no - we pay doctors to stick long needles into our soft features and change them with chemicals making us less human and more plastic
and that's just our face
our bodies? we do so much worse
Starving ourselves till our heart shrinks in the only thing running through our brains is you are fat, you are fat, you are fat, and who is to blame us when everything we see is telling us to believe that
“I run so I can eat” “I work out because I love food”
These words are printed on shirts that we wear when we should feel powerful but instead send the messages that you don't deserve to eat unless you earn it
Burning every last calorie until we are empty again
We work so ******* fixing our bodies, but maybe that's not what's broken maybe the repair work is needed in our heads and in our hearts tweaking until we can find a connection of love between our bodies and our minds.
The same genuine love you have for your mom, or your dog, or your daughter
Unconditional, Everlasting,
When will we learn to love ourselves?

I need a freedom from cynicism
from male chauvinism
embracing a softer masculine
an absence of sexism
and an embrace of a different manly-ism
one seen through a more unmanly prism
a less than bearing the whole weight of the family
and more like living as a 'we' community
not necessarily a man that's handy
but one who is able to more gently
lead by an example that's differently
fully
compassionately,
unmanfully
me.