Story of Our Lives

There is a man standing

across the way, there,

glaring me down,

stabbing the air with his finger

in my direction.

He's dressed 

awfully formally,

his coat-tails gently flapping in the breeze,

the very image of physical 

wealth and magnificence.

I blink without thinking,

and then he has appeared before me

grinding his teeth and

jabbing that finger hard into my chest,

the monocle in his eye glinting in the noon light.

There is a man standing

now in my face,

attempting to encompass my being

within his grand shadow,

trying to put me in my "womanly place".

There is a man standing

within his circle of ignorant oppression

filled with a hatred that would see me dead,

yet I will rise up,

and I will defeat you.

There is a man standing

in the face of womankind,

and we will never walk away,

no we will fight you

for our right to be.