In the haze of lights, where the world blurs and you start to reclaim yourself
In the haze of lights, where the world blurs and you start to reclaim yourself,
Standing tall on the fragile pedestal of your own worth,
Their whispers, serpentine and insidious, slither into your thoughts,
Like brainwashed subjects, chanting their mantras of doubt.
"Where does all this self-importance come from?" they hiss,
As if your burgeoning strength were a threat to their fragile egos,
"Don't you know you still hold less value, no matter how smart you are?"
Their words, like chains, attempt to bind you to their limited vision.
"The traits deemed good are for men, so why do you act like them?"
They try to confine you within the narrow walls of their expectations,
"Girls talk silly talk, so why don't you join them?"
They seek to reduce your voice to mere murmurs, inconsequential and quiet.
"We must diminish your confidence through your looks,"
Their strategy clear, to make you believe that all that matters is your pretty face,
To keep you under control and submissive,
To make you think your value depends on their confirmation.
But in the haze of lights, you find clarity,
A realization that their whispers are but echoes of their own insecurities,
You stand tall, a beacon of strength and intelligence,
Resisting their attempts to diminish your essence.
For you know that your worth is not dictated by their shallow judgments,
Nor by the narrow roles they try to impose,
You are a force, a presence, an unbound spirit,
And their whispers, like smoke, dissipate in the light of your truth.
Copyright ©
Dan Enache
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