In China, we wrap cloth around our feet, Urging toes to take disturbing shapes.
Tighter for a place with the elite,
Not a cry of pain from us escapes.
Our tender, fragile bones are cracked and broken, Shackling us as prisoners of our home.
Destined to be quiet, meek, soft spoken, Waiting on a man who is free to roam.
Nowadays these bindings squeeze our waists.
We sip our low-fat shakes and nibble carrots.
Skin stretched tight to suit another's tastes Regardless of our other strength merits.
Will a woman's worth always be found
Within the fixed and rigid way she's bound?