SHE( sacrificing herself everyday)

She is not allowed to stay with her male cousins anymore. The same fat boy who wore her frocks as a toddler, she wore his pants in return; the tall and skinny structure who bit her thigh, she kicked his balls in return; the best brother who shared his part of sweets, she offered hers. Rigidities of gender never haunted her until puberty struck her hard.
 Her helpless heart, caged, cries every night under the silence of the world, wanting to break free.
 The poetess of the class, adjusts her piece of clothing, inhales the air of confidence before presenting the seminar amongst adults. She is scared to narrate the tale of truth. They live on lies now. Every character wears a mask in the other half journey of contradictions.
There are questions to be answered, blindly accepted norms to be challenged, there is an urge to live in the world of constant entries and exit.
 In the city of chaos, she is looked down upon with the setting of the sun. The glass of wine she holds is poison in the eyes of spectators. She is ready to sell her honour which lies between her legs, when she wears those shorts and paints her nails black. She is a revolution, when she opens her mouth to put forth what it feels.
"You're a child to go out and experience the world by yourself," says her concerned mother, caressing her forehead. Later on the same day, "you're a young lady, learn to cook," says the same woman in her mid fifties. She is caught between the process of growing up, never too old to be independent and never too young for a child's dream. She is a puppet in the hands of people who love her. She follows, extinguishing her desires because they said, "we care for you."
She is tortured, beaten up, locked inside the concrete walls of the house for loving someone out of her caste. Her father is found laughing and mother rejoicing over the idea of her brothers first girlfriend at school. She dies a bit that day. Now, she lies a bit everyday and puts on the mask as everyone.
She lives on hope, rope that will swing her through. She finds solace in the clutches of her dreams. Adults frighten her, she maintains her distance, running away from the world of paradox.
She is me, you and every single woman born and yet to be born, wishing to be a man every now and then.