I am in a working stasis, a discipline fetish.
One step forward and I die.
Of course, a life in subservience,
Is being hung by the male tie.
I don't know why my thoughts are slow,
I wouldn't like to admit I'm that.
The ability of artifice is to cover for,
The rabbit that's hardly in the hat.
It's difficult being a woman and a man,
Being both has its charm.
But as the layers dissolve,
The relationships are lukewarm.
And then when the machines take over,
There won't be any silly games to play.
All the while, when I did sincerely try,
The good times wouldn't stay.
But still, I dream of freedom,
Of breaking free from societal shackles.
To live my life as I choose,
To be counted out of petty battles.
For though the road is a serpent,
And the floundering a matrix of sort.
I'll keep the sisyphian rock moving,
Without the comfort of support.
And in the end, when all is said,
And the battles will mean more.
I'll stand tall, victorious,
Conformity relegated as a sore.
Freedom isn't given away,
But fought for, day by fighting day.
And I'll keep struggling, till the end,
A life lived my own way.
