Of men, I know little,
Feeling less than one myself;
Struggling, stumbling, looking
For courage to do what I must;

Seeking validation, yet wishing
I didn’t need it to define me;
How much easier it would be
If only I could accept myself
And ignore the elucidation of others;

But here I am, subordinate,
Deficient if only in my mind;
Now if you ask me what I know
Of mice, that I can tell you;
Small, inconsequential, puny
And teensy, chased and trapped
Of men.