"Sit.
And look pretty."
We are instructed.
For people to admire.
Not expected to talk or think,
We play London Statue.
"Women? Who're they?"
We are porcelain dolls.
Look, but don't touch please!
Like Mona Lisa,
Beautiful to appreciate from behind the security line.
Then the line moves on,
Yet she is expected to stay
Within the confines of someone's idea of a woman. An art.
On your arms, we are adorn.
An expensive wrist watch;
we increase your worth.
You become a man
and crow.
But what if we didn't become your throne?
Where would you sit?
You'd fall flat on the ground,
and we wouldn't be silent anymore.
