I hold a key in my pocket
My friends have a spare
And my family are the lock makers
I don't give it to people often
In fear of what they can do with access
To my brain
To my heart
To all the thoughts I bury deep inside
They gain my trust slow
Because I know what a boy
With an imperfect smile
And a spark in his eyes
Could do to a girl like me
A girl who's had to change the locks too many time to count.

I don’t understand
I tell myself I’m pretty
But my words fall flat on the mirror I speak into.
I like my hair and my eyes
But all I can see is my nose and my lack of thighs.
I deserve better I think.