The Picture of Men
We lower our voices and make ourselves small,
We do what we are told, do not dare to be bold.
We do not move until we hear your call,
Awaiting for you - our inevitable downfall.
You take my hand,
lead me away from danger - you are my saviour.
But then you turn your head,
And why, we are dead.
Remember me
- Eurydice
I am filled with pride,
Your fair warrior.
But you change like the tide,
And our story becomes bloodier.
Your hands around my neck,
You steal my voice.
I don’t resist - I love you,
But do I even have a choice?
Remember me
- Desdemona
I am the monster,
I am the killer.
I am at fault,
I am the traitor.
You, a guardian,
Great God of the Sea.
Filled with passion,
you ignored my plea
Remember me
- Medusa
Your golden locks,
Your rose-kissed lips.
Your first words say you love me,
But your next strike me like a whip.
Say my name:
- Sybil Vane
This was the picture of men.
But even today, this is still what they expect.
To still lower our voices and make ourselves small,
To still do what we are told, do not dare to be bold.
To still not move until we hear your call,
Awaiting for you - our inevitable downfall.
Centuries have passed,
and still it prevails.
‘You have your rights’,
You get charged with rape and then released on bail.
Why won’t you hear us?
We speak - you ignore it.
We shout - we are hysterical.
All we see in your eyes is lust.
You touch, you take, you claim,
And yet somehow we are to blame.
You tell us to smile,
Then you follow us for a mile.
You float to the top,
We sink to the bottom.
We are drowning in your world,
So, did you come?
We feel you when you are gone,
Your touch still remains.
I guess for you it was fun,
Even better if we feel pain.
You steal, we heal.
The scars fade,
you return with the blade.
We have our rights,
But we still fear the night.
We battle your jokes, you want us to choke.
It’s not all men– did she put up a fight?
It’s the 21st century,
why does it matter?
‘You’ve got the vote’
I feel like the fucking Mad Hatter.
This is the picture that still remains to this day.
I am forgotten,
I am but a whisper,
in the great Picture of Dorian Gray.
But this is now. This is our reality.
We will not be forgotten again.
Remember us, remember them,
This is the Picture of Men.