Her Truth

As she walks in the street,
she feels the eyes
of every person passing by
examines her demeanor and poise.

They look at her clothes
and ask how much did they cost
as they attempt to put up 
a starting price for her value.

They glance at any sign of skin
and take note of it 
for any excess of show or modesty 
would be twisted around to fit the narrative of the story behind the auction.

They hear her tone of voice 
as well as how loud her words are. 
Any mishap in syllables or pronunciation could lead to a loss of interest
or chase of a gossip
for society is ruled by the standard,
so where is a woman to go?

when such a foundation 
wears a coat of misogyny 
yet gloats its golden jewellery
around its neck to blind the audience.

The chains twist and turn around,
and find themselves 
slithering over her feet. 
Enamored by the prey they see.

They twist around,
and encapsulate her,
but little do they know 
that as soon as it show,

the silence would cease,
and audience would finally 
deal with unease at
what the reality is

for the halls of the people 
have walls made of glass.
They hide no lies.

No matter what shape they form, 
at the end
the truth will rise,
and the storm will break.