I'm not the one to disregard gender,
Gender's as real as can be,
But somewhere along we all fell as victims,
To Illusions we hear, feel and see.

Put on your makeup, your lips shiny red,
The heels say your journey will start,
To a place - the idea of woman's mirage.
Still all know that women do fart.

The morning will come, when you like all others
Will sit down and empty out air.
My eyes on you gaze, like all other women
As honest and naked and bare.

You're smelly and stinky at least ones a day,
And still we illusions uphold,
I'd rather be honest and see what you are,
A beauty which farts can't implode.