When I paint my face out of natural
With powdery sands coloured out of the primary colours
When I scrape my eyebrows with the aim of reconstruction
Having my lashes stand tirelessly like the wings of a fan
And wide fleshy pointed lips painted off this world
Leaving my face looking like a faded rainbow
What really do I need
When my collarbones lie bare
And my sumptuous saggy breasts lie nude
With their tired nipples pointing fingers
Having the mixed colours of fanta and coke shown to all
What do I really need
When I no longer wear shirts
That cover the bare skin of my valleys
No trousers and pants that hide the gutters behind
Nor skirts that cover the alluring legs from prying eyes
Then I hold each when I wish to take a bend
To keep them from exposing the holiest of all if it still be holy
What really do I need
Would it lead in marriage
But which suitor is ready to look twice
Hardly have I seen one
Who would welcome home a woman that sold off all her rubies
I am now going to be careful when I dress
Fashion and sex never tie a man down sensuality never wins him
They mock you and scorn and condemn
You remain valueless in their sights and minds
If not them responsible men
What do I really need
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem