if
her blouse is low
her dress too high
her pants are red and too tight
lips are loose
they don't like her hips
as she moves

her make-ups too bright
her nails too dark
she wears her hair tall
without a part
her height’s too short
but they all stare
as she walks through the square

her voice is loud
her touch immense
can’t you see
she makes them all too tense

her flesh is too soft
and it hangs
they don't like her wavy bangs
her head hard
everything she does is not right

she's left with herself
they don't like
how she lives her life
but she carries it off
without airs or loft