Fair is never fair
Not when one is a giver
And the other a taker
My point is invalid
My thoughts are not shared
I'll always say it's fine
And you'll just do what you want

Nameless faceless bodies
Thrown this way and that
To spice up the story line
Then tossed to the back of the viewers mind
Forgotten
Because there was no anchor attaching her to the plot

Nameless faceless bodies
Kept in line
By the boxes of mother, daughter, sister, lover
Never far from the one or the other
And definitely not far from him
Unable to form independent thought

Nameless faceless bodies
Chopped into tiny parts
Just to be used as enticing props
To shock
And stir
Then pushed aside for something with more depth
Than the round shape of her *******
For we know you can’t have both in cinema

Nameless faceless bodies
Fixed as a
****** canvas
To display how much this world hurts
And wants to hurt
Thrown in the trash when deemed no longer beautiful enough
To keep the audience’s gaze

Nameless faceless bodies
Nameless faceless bodies
Nameless faceless bodies
Nameless faceless bodies
Nameless faceless bodies

-representation matters

I stay in vigil,
we won’t go in peril,
scraping the bottom of the barrel,
I am ready for a planet saving quarrel.

Sprinting to be a warrior,
making my name glorious,
showing other girls who like to be zealous,
not for them to be undone or imagining only men can be this audacious.

I possess a mighty orb of the blue kind,
don’t under estimate or not keep in mind,
my powers were always for the entire mankind,
not a concern if men weren’t always inclined.

Just know equality is here,
as I step up,
so it will rise to follow up,
“Cos I need no approval,
taking power in my own hands,
needless to say it’s only time for grand plans,
only sharing my wisdom to let men execute my commands.

So, mankind, make us shine! :)

She’s seen for what she wears
for what's beneath the fabric,
Nothing more, nothing less.
She can’t stop what's going to happen next,
But that's her fault.

It’s just a regular day for you and everyone else like you.
Just something to do and forget about later.
You can act impulsively,
But it's her and everyone else like her who has to live in fear about that.
Not you,
Nor the ones who make the rules.
The ones without a care in their minds about this are the ones who are in control of her decisions.
The ones who don’t need to think about what they wear,
Where they are,
Or who they’re with,
Are the ones making her think about them.

She’s living in handcuffs and its as if this is a mockery of her.
Are you just testing her to see if the handcuffs are secure?
That they’re fully locked?
Don’t worry.
They can’t come undone.
You won’t let them come undone.

And that's just how it works.
We need to hold your hand.
We need to follow you, the leader.
We need to change ourselves because it's our problem.
We are the scapegoats to the polluted minds of the animals in control of us.

It's our skin, our body,
That we will have to live the rest of our lives with.
But since it's our body, it's our fault.

i.
i was 7 when my sister pointed at my chest
covered by a loose pajama t-shirt
and said “you really ARE getting ***** aren’t you?” and laughed
and i
ran back to my room and cried
and thought about how
i could saw them off
without
the blood attracting too much
attention
so until i could figure out a way i
kept my shoulders hunched over
to hide myself

ii.
i was 8 when my mother bought me a bra
she scrunched it up in a plastic shopping bag
into a ball she concealed in one tight fist
she came up to my room
quietly
carefully closed the door behind her
whispering as she knelt in front of me
unwrapped my new shameful secret

iii.
i was 10 when my father first
grabbed my shoulders and told me to
stand up straight
gave me a lecture about bad posture
told me stories about old women nobody ever wanted because they look like turtles- can’t pick up their heads to look at you
i could only tune him out because
i couldn’t tell him that id much rather sink
into the hardened concavity of my aching spine
than be seen

iv.
i was 13 when i got my period during a test in school
feeling the weight of another secret on my
already-bent spine
only made me cry again
only affirmed the stereotypes we were trying to shatter
in the minds we were trying to change
i begged the nurse not to call my mom
but she choked the phone number out of me
and that night my mother couldn’t
speak to me without that pitying, distanced
look in her eye that i hated so much
but it burned the confidence i might have had to say something

v.
i was 15 when i told my father i didn’t want to go swimming
that i just didn’t feel like it
let him conclude that i was self-conscious, embarrassed,
too much to even say so like
every other woman he had ever known in his life
and he told me i had to be more adventurous
that he was worried i was never going to have fun in my life
never going to be outgoing enough to get by
while i held back tears and the voice about to say “I’m on my period”

vi.
i looked
in the mirror
and allowed myself
for a moment
to notice the body i was trying so hard
to evaporate
i felt
so defeated
that it was still there

there was pain swelling
growing like a cyst
pushing against the backs of my retinas
pressing through my papery skin and cradling
my eyes in
tired
bruises

my pathetic reflection told me
i hated living in secret
flattening my chest so no one can accuse me of being a woman
shutting the door so i can pour hydrogen peroxide on stained bedsheets because i can’t put them in the family’s washing machine
stealing my mother’s razor and shaving everywhere to look like the other spotless girls at school

i hate the whispering
the hunching
the hiding
and pretending

vii.
there is not much
a few pretty strokes of ink can do
but
i am here now
to write about
shouting
about truth-telling
and openness
about rebuilding and restoring
and change

change for shattered girls who hate themselves like i did
much more than i did
whose hunched spines break under the pressure of the unseen
who set torches to their Power and burn themselves to ashes

no more ******* secrets.

I feel as if i’m cursed
As if it’s a misfortune to love her
In this lifetime at least

How brave we must be to love each other.
It’s like
We were both north poles
Only meant to connect with south instead of each other
Opposites attract...right?
That’s how everything was supposed to be laid out…

But there have to be some similarities
Whether that similarity is music
Friends, family, hobbies, sports...
Or gender.

Would you really rather see two men holding weapons
Than hands?
Do you want to see the slits on wrists
When you tell them who they can’t kiss?

Just so you know
I'm a girl
I love a girl
And I’m okay with that
You should be too.