I am not an ideal woman

Pardon me, for I am not the ideal woman you expected,

The kind which you dream about,

The kind which you want to caress and hold in your arms,

The kind which you wait for as your soul mate,

 

Pardon me, for I am not the ideal woman you dreamt of,

The one who is not afraid of her femaleness,

The one who does not run away from her instinctual ardor,

The one who enjoys being in her skin,

The one who embraces her sexuality with open arms,

 

Pardon me, for I am not the ideal woman you will adore,

Who loves to break the mental shackles of,

The prison of taboos and honor which you have built,

Who refuses to respect your passionate convictions,

The boundaries which your imagination cannot dare to advance,

The lazy ideals of morality which you worship,

 

Pardon me, for I am not an ideal woman,

Pardon me, for my brutal honesty,

For not being polite to your unchallenged principles,

For being disobedient to the safe bubble you live in,

Pardon me, O world!

For not accepting your ways,

Rotten and kindness-deprived,

 

Pardon me, for I am not the sweet little princess you want to caress and hold in arms,

I only see what is actually there,

Filth, screams and pain,

Which, if I begun to pen down, would not ever stop,

I may be silent,

But I am burning from inside,

 

Pardon me, for I can only make you learn and grow,

For I can only make you think and question,

For I can push you to be the best of yourself,

For together, we can move the world forward,

But pardon me, because I am not the ideal woman you expected.