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I know not why some men do think
female only means the color pink.
There's nothing more to her than bows,
and for you is her choice of clothes.
Anything inside her brain,
because she's female, is insane.
Her opinions, silly, go unheard,
make her wonder, "am I absurd?"
Strength, once, power filled her heart,
now forgotten, dwindle in the dark.
Of course she knows not what she wants,
female, without man, is lost.
No recognition rots her core,
makes her forget she can do more
More
     than pretty, sweet, dear things
More 
     than shuttering her wings
More
     than soft, silent, demure
More
     than begging at your door
More
     than seeking approval
More
     than worth your betrothal
More
     than just your property
More
     which starts her heart to sing
Her symphony one day will rise,
within her chorus you'll realize:
ignoring her was a mistake,
now left behind, you're in her wake.
Her fire was easily sparked -
naturally, her light shone far.
The glow kindled her fantasies,
helped her navigate rough seas.
Mere glimpse of what there is to hold,
whetted her thirst to see the world.
Now she simply cannot stop
reaching, working, for her cause.
For once she found she was a star,
she woke up, moved on, reached for more.