From the day you are born,
with lungs fit to rattle the mores,
skin shriveled and covered in womb,
mother’s eyes fight to stave off the night
for you being blessed as a girl.
In this world of inequality–devalued,
in pockets of depravity– misused.
Under their gaze–misconstrued, but
the joke is on them, for
you are a wolf under sheepskin.
We travel the lands in a pack
to hunt, to nurture, to survive.