The man comes from a woman, it knows.
It still chooses to name the woman after himself, it knows.

It knows that his life is the blessing of a woman,
Yet it curses her when she asks for a chance to live.

Irony is the woman's soul,
Her being a juxtaposition of right and wrong.
Wearing a blindfold to justice,
The real jewel she had all along.

But not always.

Sometimes it behaves exactly as it says, Crowns her Goddess Laxmi, And sells her life for cash.

It calls nature her mother, You surely can now see,
Defiles, abuses, chops her up for desire Just as calmly as it fells a tree.

She is the goddess of education, He crowns her to pray
What more can a goddess learn?
It says as he snatches the bag away.

Irony is not a woman's life, Irony is when she complains
She knows she has no voice, She chooses to scream anyway