In my eyes

I read somewhere,
That women are their own voyeur.
And I can’t shake it off.
We anyways,
Like our brows a little arched,
Our cheeks a little pinched,
Our hair falls like silk around perfect faces.
I’d say there’s nothing wrong.
I open my world to primers and bb creams,
Foundations and hair straighteners,
Mousses and shaving razors.
I am like a war inside me,
Instead of a man’s gaze.
So what if I grow hair in my arm pits,
So what if I wake up looking like shit,
Not with pillow perfect hair or a minty breath.
We document ourselves,
And walk around in our best angles.
Would you please switch seats with me Sir?
Right is not exactly the best view I can offer you.
And yet,
The new highlighter I got,
You won’t believe it works wonders.
Women should do what they want to do,
Without having to feel
And yet,
Are we there yet?
What is a woman’s world if not a game.
We got levels of acceptance.