A condemned birth!

Women! A tear drop lurking in the eyelids.
The first sculptor kneaded and mixed with tears,
The clay and modeled a figure and gave it a name
The name woman, in defiance of her weakness.
A condemned birth of a being!

The first man and the modern man did not make any
Difference or composure to her, in her life.
All the passion and excitement of the man is limited
To the attraction, contained in her body only;
On the exterior beauty, of her whole being.
And the lust and thirst for her body remained same.
Always, everywhere, and around her.

In the nuptial bower, in the whore house,
In the street, in usual places, he is after her looks only.
It made her a slave only, constantly, continuously.
It dishonored and ignored her intellect and consciousness;
Her talents, her creativity, and thoughts…
The selfish, egotistic, supercilious, nincompoop,
The man, forgetting it is his mother,
Who is turned to the bone of contention.
But a strong strand of hay to hold on in a deluge
A haven to return to, in chaos, as a refuge...