A Difficult Poetry

I want to write,
But from where should I begin?
The whole saga,
Everything begins with ' I'm a woman'.
.
.
I'm a woman,
Surrounded with fear and danger,
Yet, I'm living.
Just don't ask me,
How?
At every step, on every corner,
There are 'Men',
Waiting,
Waiting for me to pass by,
And entertain their eyes,
And to bring some colors to their bored life.
They find it quite funny, chasing girls,
They find it adventurous,
They find it manly,
There is no man, who hasn't chased a girl ever, they say,
What they don't feel is that there hasn't ever a girl, who had a 'breath',
A breath of freedom,
An essence of carelessness,
A feel of a being like a man.
What they don't feel is,
That woman is not just a body and flesh,
That chasing us is not an adventure.
Don't judge my age with my words,
I suffer, throughout,
Some impose themselves on me,
Making me marry a clown of concrete,
And restricting me within boundaries.
While some hit at me, and some hit on me,
(Wow, look at me, I'm still writing,
Knowing you won't care.)
Don't worry, I'm alive,
Just don't ask me,
How?