Ah, you fickle society
With your norms arbitrary
Established by those in authority-
When will you learn to deal with me?
If I did possess, proudly
Alluring, exquisite beauty
If I were willing to sacrifice
My intellect, often perceived as a vice
You would know where to place
Someone like me, just a pretty face..
If I were meek and willing forever
To lean on a broader (?stronger) shoulder
You would readily be able to
Put in a box, label me, wouldn’t you?
If my eyes dripped of vulnerability
You would look at me quite comfortably..
To parochial authority if I could submit
My desires, aspirations if I could forfeit
I would merge in your fabric
Seamlessly, without perturbing your rubric
If I never raised a voice of dissent
Never ventured beyond the extent
Of liberties allotted to me
By those who think they shape you, society
I would live life predictably
Fitting right in, respectably..
Ah, my dear society, you see
I do not fit in those molds, unfortunately..
Underdosed in beauty I happen to be
Wit and intellect were bestowed on me
In reasonable quantities-
Your irrational vagaries
Exasperate me, I am forced
To say things that are not endorsed
By your members esteemed
Therefore, to me it has often seemed
That my chutzpah makes it difficult for you
To be comfortable with me, isn’t that true?
Afraid I am not, no shoulder I need
(I can offer my delicate shoulder indeed)
In your carefully woven tapestry
I clearly stand out like a jarring accessory
I speak my mind, sending your members
Scrambling for suitable answers…
Your stereotypes fail to classify me
We need a middle ground that I don’t see
I keep hoping someday we shall find
A way to celebrate both beauty and mind!