You call her a slut, you call her a whore,
but that's all that you see and nothing more.
For, within every woman, slut or not lies a small butterfly,
waiting for the colours on her wings to show out
as beautiful as it is, while you just see a garish display
because that is all that your eyes can see.
Within every woman lies a mother, the most loving one in the world.
Sluts and prostitutes as you see or tag,
also gives out her blood to feed her baby as milk through breasts,
whose suppleness is all that you notice.
I see the mother. You see the slut.
I wonder at the ease with which words flow from your mouth
as your eyes trace the figure of a woman in the clothes of her choice
and the words of her own independence, may you be a man or woman.
Do you care to see the insecure little girl who misses her father's hug
or the flutters of the twenty year old she is as the secret glances of boys
follow the wind raising her nervousness?
You see a woman, a slut, a woebegone creature with blood between her legs as a knowledge
and smirk with disgust, twisting your face.
Ever thought about that small bloody pouch she is imbibed with,
waiting to carry a being far beyond her capacity, someone who could get her killed,
yet love it before it even reaches this planet that is one in a million.
You see women on the road, in the mall and on your front porch
seeking explanations for your stares for being who she is;
and all you can say is this : "Damn the freaking whore."
How long before you realize a whore you call is a woman too?
With flesh, bones, breasts and all that define her physically;
with a heart, a womb, some laughter and tears many unseen.
That, she rules her life and loves herself
more than the right which you assume to judge her
by the hip that moves as she walks on the stilettos in a manner befitting her or not.
She may leave her hair loose for the winds to play between the fibrous cracks,
she will raise her voice if you hurtle words that don't belong to her on her face;
She will not care about your useless existence if you are one.
And if all this makes her a whore, a slut.
A slut she is.
A wondrous one.
Hemu
but that's all that you see and nothing more.
For, within every woman, slut or not lies a small butterfly,
waiting for the colours on her wings to show out
as beautiful as it is, while you just see a garish display
because that is all that your eyes can see.
Within every woman lies a mother, the most loving one in the world.
Sluts and prostitutes as you see or tag,
also gives out her blood to feed her baby as milk through breasts,
whose suppleness is all that you notice.
I see the mother. You see the slut.
I wonder at the ease with which words flow from your mouth
as your eyes trace the figure of a woman in the clothes of her choice
and the words of her own independence, may you be a man or woman.
Do you care to see the insecure little girl who misses her father's hug
or the flutters of the twenty year old she is as the secret glances of boys
follow the wind raising her nervousness?
You see a woman, a slut, a woebegone creature with blood between her legs as a knowledge
and smirk with disgust, twisting your face.
Ever thought about that small bloody pouch she is imbibed with,
waiting to carry a being far beyond her capacity, someone who could get her killed,
yet love it before it even reaches this planet that is one in a million.
You see women on the road, in the mall and on your front porch
seeking explanations for your stares for being who she is;
and all you can say is this : "Damn the freaking whore."
How long before you realize a whore you call is a woman too?
With flesh, bones, breasts and all that define her physically;
with a heart, a womb, some laughter and tears many unseen.
That, she rules her life and loves herself
more than the right which you assume to judge her
by the hip that moves as she walks on the stilettos in a manner befitting her or not.
She may leave her hair loose for the winds to play between the fibrous cracks,
she will raise her voice if you hurtle words that don't belong to her on her face;
She will not care about your useless existence if you are one.
And if all this makes her a whore, a slut.
A slut she is.
A wondrous one.
Hemu
