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Påłpëbŕå Aug 2022
what does it make me
when i kiss a stranger?
let him have his way with me
because i crave danger?

what does it make me
when i wear a short dress
pair it with tattoos and piercings
just to express and none to impress?

what does it make me
when i like to have fun
with a cig or a drink
in my leather jacket and messy bun?

what does it make me
when i sleep with a 100 men
and don't wait for a husband
to break my ******' *****?

what does it make me
when i like to stay alone
love or date nobody
and be happy on my own?

what does it make me
when i talk to guys for hours
listen to their stories
and try to heal their scars?

what does it make me
when i post **** pictures
of myself in a red lipstick
with cocktails and mixtures?

what does it make me
when i don't want babies or want five
because motherhood is a choice
and not just a means to survive

what does it make me
a ****, a ***** or something more gore?
a pretty girl you'd love to ****
and be done with once you tuck?
or a pure little submissive
with whom you can be dismissive,
a good wife who's got no drive
and on your mercy shall she thrive?

what does it make me, eh?
it makes me whoever the hell i want to be
a replica of a celebrity or plain ol' boring me
for i don't want the society to be my benefactor
i am enough for me and my perfectly imperfect character!
i have been trying to write this poem for months now.......it's a topic very close to me and i am sure to many people around me......it's not just the girls who are judged, even guys are but i wrote it from my pov.......at the end its OUR PROBLEM......but we gotta live here and bring a change in this stubborn *** world.......and those who can't accept the way we are, well they can go and **** themselves.
Påłpëbŕå Aug 2022
Sat I next to the window of the car

Peering out of it into the clouds,

As my mind went a bit too far

Heard I him in the rain sounds.


The engine roared and the road started

With me in the back seat;

Tip- tap, peter-pat the drops imparted

The knowledge of his lost heat.


The music played in my periphery

Reminding of a time when,

‘Him’ and ‘me’ were a perfect ‘we’

-a love that was truly forsaken.


Every lyric that poured in

Synced with the sky’s song,

The nature was witnessing

How he left me alone in this throng.


From the first time we met to the last time he held my hand,

Our first kiss to the last time we slept,

All those moments from our dreamland

Came back to me as the heaven wept.


The drops on the window drew lines of lament

And my vision turned blurry,

Because our story was in fragments;

-the one that ended up in a hurry.


He threw himself down the cleft

Giving birth to a tragedy,

And now, all I have are words left

Of us, the rain and our past poetry.
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