I can not talk.
I can't argue.
I cannot neglect myself.
I can't tell my ideas.
I cannot rebel.
I can't cry.
I can't argue at night.
Because I am a woman.
I have to be quiet, good, strong, always active, always sniffing laundry detergents, living in the apocalypse of bills, baking cookies.
Be good, angelic and silent.
To be a mummy and not a Sphinx.
Because I am a woman.
And in the winter, light candles, set memories on fire, dust brains in jars,
and remain a woman,
in her place, silent, silent,
invisible.