I'm still waiting for that era.

When I can be a lady and still
Go out frolicking in the streets at night.

No one will try to judge me for

The clothes I wear or the friends I choose to be with.

That day is still to come when
People will see the brightness I bring to others' lives.
Than the dark scars left by acne on my face.

I'm still waiting for that very day.

When the freedom to be me will not be theirs.

When I can draw, write, or paint on my own

Then quietly follow the prints left by a stranger's foot.

When will I ever own my life?

Than slaves for empty rituals, blind aimless strifes,

When I will not desire so badly to be born a guy?
To gather seeds of respect from the hay of suppositions.

When all will see that women are not just behind great men?

But ahead of them, ahead of time.

So far ahead that one's eye could not trace

The majestic path her soft toes stepped on.

When a lady will not be just another maid,
But a fellow human who, rather than
Maintain a body to please the eye.

Will nurture the amazing field in her brain that enthrals.