What if?

I have a gun and I walk home with it,
I have a gun because she says I have to do it.
Pull the trigger and shoot the male chauvinistic pig she said,
Fight for your rights, let justice be done.
“If I had a gun,” she thought,
And what If? I asked.

I would put a hole into his chest,
I would make him suffer for the way he treats me.
I would show him where his eyes belong,
I would shoot him for his “ridiculous private thoughts.”
I’d shoot that man, who’d comment on my clothes and pat me on my head,
Like that dog he owns.

But don’t your girlfriends do that? I asked,
You like it when they say it,
And they call you their bitch too!
Why shoot the man who comes to you for wisdom?
You know you like to give it.
Shoot that egotistic, discriminating man- that human,
Would I really do it? I wondered.

He thinks you are his dress-up-doll,
His stupid little plaything.
He checks you out up and down,
And treats you like his piece of meat.
You have that gun, girl,
You have that power, she said.

But we like a well-dressed man as well,
The kind that shines and comes out of his shell.
We assess that man with keen eyes,
And then we decide that yes, indeed, our choice was wise.

The gun I have, and maybe the power,
But kill a confused man?
I will not commit that crime.

Anger, frustration, ego, revenge- it is the same everywhere.
She wishes she had a gun,
count your lucky stars, she doesn’t have one.
I will not pull the trigger when I come home,
Treat me with respect, and I’ll give you some.
But remember, I am a woman too,
My reading is different, but my breathing the same.

This is something i wrote for my general english class in response to Gig Ryan's poem, If i had a gun.

Cheers! :)