Women of the Trade


Just when light fades, we are free to be free.
Endless nights lying upon the stars,
Wondering, wishing, waiting--
The moon tells revolutionary stories of the oppressed,
The sun spreads gleaming rays of hope,
I sit still--
Quietly.
The night is my escape, my chance to be me.
I am who I want to be.

As the rosy morning sky sings songs of ambition,
I am shackled with daytime frets.
Surrounded by the land of golden opportunity,
But trapped because I am me.
Another day.
Another chance.
No progress.

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