the skin that shrivels
beneath that scorching glare
what is seen is not the lesser known
to be called the ‘immodest’
what could be provocative
but to the eyes of a ‘pervert’ alone?
I am a woman, the nature,
To birth and bloom, not in shame
But in openness,
the feminine that bursts forth from beneath
the skin that covers, but peers out
from under the fabric of society
that, which winds a woman, in a closet mind
to be under the veil ever
as a body but not a being,
‘the one which shows, is an object’
This male notion, will it change never?
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