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In this warped world, you've reduced me to "cis",
A snide designation, like I'm just a miss.
I've humored your labels, adjusted my speech,
But you're erasing my essence, pushing me out of reach.

Every "they", "them", or "ze", I've echoed back to you,
Yet "woman" is trivialized, made small in your view.
You coin "birthing person", diluting my essence,
But without a woman's womb, there'd be no presence.

It's not just a word, it's my blood, my fight,
Years of oppression, clawing towards the light.
Your language, progressive? It feels more like a snub,
To the millions of women, the backbone, the hub.

My anger's not quiet, it's a storm, it's a scream,
For every time "she" is brushed off as a dream.
You want inclusion? Start by seeing me whole,
Not just a part, but a heart, a soul.

Every shift in your language, every modern-day spin,
Feels like another erasure, another lost win.
I've been patient, adaptive, but now I draw the line,
For I am a WOMAN, fierce and divine.
In this swirling vortex, branded merely as "cis",
Dismissed and downplayed, like I barely exist.
Every new term you coin, every label you thrust,
Undermines my being, turns my identity to dust.

I'll honor your pronouns, adapt as you wish,
But in sidelining "woman", you're dismissing the fish
That birthed the ocean, the roots of the tree,
Remember, without woman, there'd be no "you" or "me".

"Birthing person", "carrier", modern terms now abound,
Yet the essence of "woman" gets lost, watered down.
My anger's a tempest, my pain's depth profound,
In the shadows you cast, my voice struggles for sound.

Every story untold, every silenced decree,
Fuels the fire, the woman roaring in me.
For in your progressive world, one truth stands apart:
The pulse of humanity beats in a woman's heart.

So, as language evolves, and old terms are undone,
Don't forget the battles, the wars we've won.
For behind every pronoun, every shift and each plan,
Stands the strength, the fury, the heart of a woman.