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Better Man

 


Now you are a better man,
Because you found spirituality in a foreign land.
But aren’t you the one who shamed me once,
Claiming I was “old enough” and should have watched porn?
Why? Because being a woman who made food with love wasn’t enough?

Do you think I needed to be “cool” to have a man?
That after every objectifying glance,
I had to shape myself—quirky tees, muted dreams,
Just to be a shadow of what you demand?

You labelled me a gold digger—way to go, divine coder.
Was I afraid to ask or learn because I wasn’t a nine-pointer?
Shy, not assertive—was that my crime?
When I wasn’t sure if I could speak my mind?

You enjoyed more freedom and independence than me,
But can you even relate to that disparity?
I dreamed of strength, of standing tall,
Long before I understood these walls.

Now you felt violated when someone touched you without consent,
But I’ve carried that burden since I was a child—
Do you really think I’m fragile? Weak?
Do you know what goes on in the back of a woman’s mind?

Every step I take, I calculate:
"Hopefully, he doesn’t rape me or kill."
How much of my mind is consumed by that?
And yet, you say girls lack intelligence—imagine that.

You wear the badge of a better man,
Preaching love as if it’s yours to teach.
But do you see the chains I broke,
The world I navigated, without a map or reach?

Yes, I wore pain like armour,
Yes, I learned silence to survive.
But I was never weak, never lesser—
I’ve always been alive.

So call yourself a better man,
But understand, I was never just a woman
Made for your convenience or plan.

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