Numbers are something I used to adore,

They never changed—always the same.

I loved how they opened this door—

To a world with nothing being tame.

I liked being organised, in perfect rows,

Everything right, it had to be clear.

But now I know that it comes and goes,

And numbers can whisper what I fear.

They ARE everywhere—I used to smile,

Counting stars or tiles or days.

But now each digit feels like trial,

Measuring me in all these ways.

There are too many numbers in my mind,

Each thought a sum and each move a test.

Even my body is redefined,

By math that doesn’t let me rest.

I calculate all the words I say,

Their weight and worth, what they cost me.

I never thought I’d feel THIS way...

But numbers tell me who to be.

I wish I could quit thinking about norms,
There’s a rainbow after all storms.
The ones in our minds too I guess,
I just wish I would think about this less.

Because really, everything is unfair,
So who cares about my short hair?
And of course it’ll grow back,
Yet it forever leaves a crack.

A crack in my heart and my head,
I can’t even believe what I’ve said.
They want the hair to be long,
All I feel is just, that this is wrong.

I want the red not the blue key,
I don’t think that’s hard to see.
So it won’t be cut once again,
But will that be the rainbow or the rain?

'Cause I shall look in the mirror,
That won’t make anything clearer.
And I will feel sad looking there,
My hair will be too long to bear.

I will look at photos of me now,
I’ll probably wonder why and how.
Might say that it was a mistake,
They’ll never see if it’s true or fake.

She was just seven,
She really wanted to go to heaven,
Dreamed of being free,
Loved the idea of there being a "we".
They told her what she can’t wear,
They told her she has to put up her hair.

She was just thirteen,
Staring at glowing screen.
They told her she’ll distract the boys,
They told her she doesn’t have a choice,
At the time she didn’t realise she didn’t have a voice.

She was just fifteen,
Haunted by all the things she’d heard and seen.
Haunted by all of her thoughts,
She just didn’t yet know how to connect the dots.
And they just told her that he was being mean,
They told her that she was the one making a scene.

Now she’s twenty one,
Realised that freedom isn’t always that much fun.
She found out the game’s not fair,
They’ll always paint her with despair.
And that might be okay,
She can always just call it a day.
This caused her to believe,
That there are a lot of things she can achieve.

But she will never win,
They will always say she committed a sin.
She is doing well,
doesn’t care what the whispers tell,
even if she’ll go to hell.
Because that’s the one place they said wasn’t cool,
So maybe she’s the fool,
And heaven is the place that’s not cool.

If she knows that they’re dumb,
Why is she so numb?
She doesn’t know how to feel,
Is all of this even real?