I never liked shaving,

a blade in my hand,

scraping across body hair

that never asked to be gone.

They called it *****,

so I was *****.

I carved at my skin,

slicing away

the girl they wanted me to be.

The girl I was told to become.

Now my armpits are hairy,

the razor’s long dead,

rotting in its plastic grave.

And me?

I don’t care anymore.