Beneath the public face we carry our thoughts ~ oceans that roll and crash under a placid surface We are all commodity meant to be consumed public domain of our private selves The eyes the legs the clothing the makeup Every detail ripe for analysis dissection We are laid bare in the snapshot judgment of small minds the gaze that seeks to own what can never be possessed It's the chorus of male voices that do not seek more or less than the enslavement of women We wear a public face and whisper our tales we bury ourselves within an interior tapestry rich beyond measure Waiting to create a safe space for women's voices to ring clear