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When you see someone crying,
You should help.

You saw her cry,
You didn’t help.

But I was bowling my eyes out,
And she was barely sniffling.
"Men have opinions too."
No ****, of course they do.—
She murmurs as he rolls his eyes.
Maybe that’s the reason she tries.

"Men have opinions too."
She obviously knows that’s true.
She wouldn’t be the feminist she is,
If it weren’t for words like his.

"Men have opinions too."
If they didn’t you couldn’t say that,
COULD YOU?
So my uncle told me this. It was after his wife said that she kinda wishes she had not changed her last name (to his) and I declared that I am not changing my last name for a man, and if I had kids they’d have the same surname as me (‘cause like I would be the one birthing them). And my uncle no **** says: “MEN HAVE OPINIONS TOO” Like yeah Sherlock of course they do.
In this world they are

Thoughtful
Attentive
Awful
Ineffective

They drink
Knowing it’s poison
Smile as they sink
Can’t unpoison

How could they float or swim
In this darkness
Only one light so dim
Oh goodness

Try to embody
It’s a hole
A body
With zero soul
Go check out white lies & red whine. This is a poem is about me in that poems like world. Somethings like that <33
All this jewellery,
What for can it be?

Earrings you got at birth,
What are they worth?
They are with you
Always

Exchanging friendship bracelets,
The expectations it sets.
Best friends
Forever

Necklaces from family,
Might not know what you see.
They’re still there for you
Truly

Engagement and wedding rings,
More than beautiful things.
Boyfriends, girlfriends—lives entwine,
Becoming husbands, wives in time.
I guess what I meant to say was: everything has a meaning
We live in a world of

Dark skies
Rays of sunshine
White lies
Adults drinking red whine

Kids with conceptions
Not being listened to
So many exceptions
Nothing to do

Imperfections
Insecurities
People and connections
Fading to obscurity

Slicing ourselves
Because we are rare
Society compels
Tempting not be there
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?
This was the first poem I ever wrote. And I would have written it differently now, but it still has a special place in my heart because it made me realise how much making thoughts rhyme helps <3

— The End —