They warn you
"Of what you own
may not be yours"
when you step out
to breathe at 10 pm.
If you question,
they'll tell you,
"You can't afford your
freedom and that what
makes you a woman."
At the daybreak,
you keep your hands
busy with the households,
while your brother
scribble some equations.
You speak," I love equations."
They repeat, " You 'loved' equations."
On your Sundays,
you lie on the couch,
ask yourself why
you are a woman~
you find 'a reason',
"To tell them, of what
we own, are utterly ours."
Since then it becomes your
'the reason'.
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