Woman, It's Sneaking Beauty. Poem by Rachel Shaw

Woman, It's sneaking beauty.
Stop your fruitless fight.
your amongst the rows of dreary faces
that only light up when the day meets night.

Man, attack your critics
Crack up your smile saved for December.
Why throw out those desires for something a little more,
So inconvenient to remember.

Hunter, gatherer.
It's all really the same, but we all have our own unique purpose.
But how the f. are we supposed to survive in this monotone nine to five circus?

Soul has been chained to the desk
Whipped are our brains, drilled and trained
to learn a language that makes no sense to anyone

Man, Woman.
It's all really the same, and we all have our own unique purpose.
But how the f. are we supposed to survive if we escape this nine to five circus?