White I travel back to the 80s
And I see a little boy.
He is working in a field,
There isn't any toy.
I see a bright figure,
Small but shining tall.
I see someone next to him,
then it makes sense and all.
I realise it's his uncle
Normalising many things for him,
Like shouting at his wife
And holding her at whim.
They don't have a daughter
So I guess he didn't learn,
How to love a woman
And how to blow on her burn.
Later, at worst, he adds salt,
Thinking it would be better.
But this is not a recipe
So his thoughts don't matter.
He forgot to love
And he will never understand.
He will always feel inferior
Whenever a woman takes a stand.
And though he'll be great,
He will not be satisfied.
He will hurt many...
His actions, cruel, yet glorified.
And yet he will be called A Man.
The false definitions will not change.
She'll always be stepped over,
They will always call her strange.
©Anagha Ukaskar
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