Gentleman's Club

The room is fogged with smoke,
The leather chairs are worn,
The laughter is amplified,
The whiskey bottle mourned.
The men they are rowdy,
The hot drink swims in their veins,
They're discussing women,
But never mention the names.
The waitress, I just serve,
The men they're eyes do linger.
The attention I get is unwanted.
One thinks himself a singer.
The gentleman's club is private,
Only one type of woman allowed.
The ones they feel are below them.
The ones that are rarely found.
Then there is just me,
They don't really even know,
That I observe them in disgust.
And watch their foul show.
What if women were to do this,
To be private, bold and respected.
And have a male server...
That only done what was expected.
You don't realise we have minds,
That we can comment on what is said.
You merely think we're nothing,
No worth but for your bed.
Well I hope I prove you wrong,
That women can lean and fight,
But until this time does come...
I'll just wish you all goodnight.