thoughts of you

Your daddy is a rich man
i can imagine him wearing white
every morning like the other rich does.
he worries for you and your future
he knows you are becoming an intellect
He can make you select
for any job you wish, he can even dissect
the rules for you, he can even inject
the syrup of Gandhi anywhere if needed
and you are often praised by your friends
and your godfather and whoever that admires
your cleavage and words of your songs and poems
but i see whatever you sing and recite
you learn from books and television
and the libraries which are kept so clean
in the heart of the cities
people like me are not allowed to enter
yet it is with full of tears and wails
i am not saying i suffer more
but yours look pretentious
i too cry unheard like you in your poem.
please feel beyond being feminist
and dont get carried away by surrealists
cos we live in the very place
where we die for no reason
but you will not die and you will not hide too
cos your fencing are higher than ever
cos you drink the best drinks
cos you live the best life
but learn to feel them in your sleepless night
i am sure you will shiver and sweat
you will roll and toss with your pillow.