There are times I hate being a girl
And it eats my insides like a savoury meal
But the hate is all I can feel
I hate the pressure to be a standard that is in our heads
To have pretty eyes, big butts and large round chests
The beating of our hearts when we are met with the man who will follow us home on a moonlit night
Our screams not being heard till we’re out of sight
Yet we still hear them in the air that once gave us life
And we get blamed for it, because supposedly what we were wearing was “too tight.”
So yes I hate being a girl sometimes
Not all of it, but the haunting experiences we face we try so hard to fight