Little crumbs of society's mold,

They settle deep within our souls,

No matter how we turn away,

Their whispers still shape our days.

Unaware, we wear their mask,

Forgetting who we are beneath.

Our thoughts and deeds, they silent craft.

We ask ourselves, "Will this be right? Will it please the watching eyes?"

And in that questioning, we fade,

Our voices softened, our dreams delayed.

But I yearn to break that chain,

To think and dream with unbound mind,

To chase the stars, unafraid of scorn,

Unheeding of the murmured doubt:

"Will she, a woman of ambition, ever find love’s gentle hand?"

I long to speak, to shout the truth,

Without the fear of reprimand:

"Silence, woman, do not speak,

For your voice disrupts the peace."

Yet still, those crumbs within us cling,

Daring us to fall in line,

To keep alive the mold that binds,

And shape a world

where silence reigns.