Depicted industry

 
Fix your posture, He whispered before the camera gleamed
Another smile a little wider, or a flick lacking adhesion
Another selfsame figure sat, strolled and leaned.
Making “because you’re a woman” a valuable reason.
He finally asked, “how did you break out of your cuff?”
I sat back and thought, how much of this do I deserve?
Because a career spanning six decades just wasn’t enough.
Was I supposed to be obedient to sit and observe?
Did it not feel real?
Another industry gone wasted.
For you to adjust another meal
And then tell me to taste it?
When I hear entertainment the first thing I think
Is a woman in a field deprecated by men?
Another lump in her throat she has to let sink
Another male aspect trying to ask her when
This will stop, when she will drop, the ongoing throb that still hasn’t seen day
Or try to interfere, and trace her career, just because they fear, an equal pay.
But from now on when you hear the word entertainment
I hope you look back at the exasperating sooth
That women in the industry don’t just make a statement
They can even discern bronze from copper and silk from smooth
Women in the entertainment industry aren’t depictions of your reveries
They are self-made renderings of what a woman could be
Not a wrangle or discourse of prejudiced salaries
So how much does it take for one to be free?
The concept we now know that purpose, pursuit that screech
Hasn’t always been at the depths of every misdemeanor
When that one chance you had suddenly falls out of reach
So enlighten me please, what is a “solid” leader?
Another incompetent male who can’t hold back his rage?
Women in the industry are still viewed as subdued
As they’re thriving over men when they’re half their age?
And yet men can still react if they’re out of their mood.
by the balcony, the street, and home that you live  
In each and every person you may somehow cross
Is a woman who had so much to give
At  every conduct and at every coast

Because  where there is us, patriarchy roams
and where there is us, there is also me
In education, employment, inside our homes
How much does it take for one to be free?

Men might walk, we might have to run
Yet we always get questioned at our worst and best
I am a young woman and I love to be one

But why does that I mean, I have to get less?
Why does that mean that  you have to suppress ?
My opinions and voice and not have a choice.

Beware of the rain , beware of the snow
Beware of the friends , you think that you know
The puppets that you once made are turning against
Each one of your knees crawling you back home
You would trade them all for proper sense
That run even faster than skin and bone
I guess socks and strings have consequence
Now they are pulling the curtains to see
The only puppet there is me
In this depicted industry.