You root for this One, publicized,
You know, the One that has no pride,
But always, very much to hide,
‘Politicos’ they are astute,
They always know which horn to toot,
Behind closed doors, amongst themselves,
They plan the voting, empty shelves,
Then cakes are sliced for future dates,
While we watch on, behind Hell’s gates.
You say
I am a man
For all around
For everyone else-
But for me
To speak the truth within
I am a queen
As loyal as Draupadi
To the husbands of me
And my life,
My yearnings,
My earnings,
My profession,
My possessions-
Earthly and spiritual.