When I walk out of my door
I’m not mine anymore.
I become: lost property
Claimed by the eyes of the men that watch me
I know looking is free,
But I will never be thankful for the ways that I’m seen.
Where am I supposed to look,
Did you ever think that? You, that’s took
Taken, my body and face
Dressed me down, touched, taken up my space
Your own ornamental vase
Which you laugh at when it starts to quicken it’s pace
And I know that it happens to
Everyone, I know, I do.
Is that supposed to make
Me feel better? I suppose if you take
The libido from Blake
His poetic devotion will also break.