Women and men and changing things. (The worst title for a poem, ever)

If there were a mirror, bigger than the moon,

maybe then I could see your source.

But, the moon reflects only light.

Those are your words not mine.

Glass is worthless, you say.

Yet, you are young, 

and your hair was cut short.

And mine has grown. I let it.

There are things that have always been.

And I realise that I know them,

now. Better than anyone else, I know.

I want to tell you to roll with them.

But, they will chew and keep on chewing.

There is no spittle for people like us.

The moon can see our fated progress,

it has a light and is enough.

For when you are nothing, the faintest light

can bring you to a page.

I will be blunt, we are not all artists.

I will be worse, money is king.

And a king is a man who can

make a woman a queen.