The Revolt Under My Skin

I feel a revolt,
Straight under my skin,
It bubbles inside me,
And refuses to be kept within,
Your hackles and chains,
Cannot hold the untamed,
Your words and your 'wisdoms',
Cannot cure my rage,
The fire is hot,
And it burns bright green,
Though all is not true,
Some is not seen.

By Lois French

Tailoring a Garment

I may not be the idealistic girl of perfect features, immense cooking skills and sustain the ability to stay awake through mammoth talks of things she, evidently, does not understand because she is woman. However, I am me, me is perfectly fitting to myself and to those who do not find it fitting will not be able to tailor me like a garment.