...a sister who is not proud

Have you looked in my eyes, recently?
Without your thought, mulling over your sexuality,
Fearing, your temptations will erupt in front of me,
Have you glanced at my history?
By looking at my curvy hips, and glossy lips?
Reversed your glancing trip, so your mind gets to grips?
Have you taken semi-concealed look?
Before the pages close, in your manly book,
Have you stolen words, from a cheap crook?
Scripted with “I, (maybe, never), will, marry you”
Have I satisfied you, with no giving clues?
Can you predict my past, by looking at my eyes?
Truly, tell me, can you tell me, without lies?
All the suffering I have been through and the cries?
All the love I’ve given and the passion in your lives?
All the questions asked, and the provided whys?
Have I not given birth, to a warrior, and you?
…Have you sung the blues, without sad tunes?
Have you run tracks, in the divided dunes?
Lost and hopeless, in the month of June,
Is the breath I breathe, the heat your mind consumes?
Are you attuned to my figure, and the steady picture?
Is your mind intoxicated with the simulated liquor?
Have you followed a path, with unwritten direction?
Have you bared lust, in a scripted affection?
Have you jumped on a wagon, with body full of rejections?
Have you build ambitions, without a chosen perfection?
Truly, tell me, can you tell me, without lies?
Without the need to improvise in your old guise,
Would you have looked at me, if my body was disguised?
Would you have devised your words into diluted lies?
What is it that my body has informed your mind?
That left you undefined and blind, combined,
That made you walk undermined and immodest, entwined,
I stand firm, in the past of my fathers,
…Those men that stood still against time,
Fought with pen, and strengthened rhyme,
…Those that rose up only to climb higher,
Full of ambitions and fulfilling desire,
I question your thoughts, for I have doubts,
Before you gazed, and stood as a frisky scout,
Have you not thought speaking of a unique route?
For I am familiar in this road of deformed crowd,
I have past the devil, for I gave him a clout,
I reached this stance, because I am devout
You are a man, whose pity must come out,
And I am a woman, a mother, and sister who is not proud.