Ask me what I hate,
And I tell you, this is it.
Ask me what I hate,
And I repeat this is it.

I don’t want to be whistled at,
To get inside my rooms.
I don’t want to be shouted at,
To know I’m late.
I don’t want to be asked questions,
To learn all the rules.
I don’t want you to glare at my friends,
To realize they are boys after all. (So?)

What? When? Why? Where? Which?
How many more questions you got?
How many more answers will suffice?
Confined and tamed, where in,
A breath of fresh air needs to be fought for,
A walk outside needs to be signed upon.
And so much more.

You belong to twenty first century,
You say we have got all the rights,
You preach women empowerment,
But oh! We are just women,
You got to condition us,
To the whistles, the time and the people,
And what more?

Oh dear,
There’s no ending to these lines,
If that’s what you’re looking for,
As there are no answers to my fears,
And that’s what I’m writing for.