They took away my voice

Along with my choice

Fed me rot

From the fat friar’s pot

They tried to fill my head

With stories of men long dead

With privilege and title

Sword and rifle

Heaving with books

And scowling looks

How they must’ve hated me

Just because I pee differently

Tormentors sucking out my soul

Leaving a great cavernous hole

I tried to fill it with tales of all kinds

About brave women of their own minds

But they kept pushing me down

And all that was left was a sad clown

I persevered and wrote poems of my own

But no one would listen, not even on the phone

I fought and fought, and I still fight today

Never giving up until I have my say!

Never again will I stay quiet

I’d rather go on an all liquid diet.