Jan 2014
To the girls I grew up with.
Those girls with diverse stories, plots, and twists,
but shared the same book cover,
& shared the same synopsis;
& soon enough sentences on pages will be adjusted,
& words will alter,
& they'll share the same story.
Those girls who lost the essence of standing against the crowd -
Who are not going anywhere further than the crowd.
... But one only reads a book once.
To the girls I grew up with.
Those girls who changed themselves to fit in a society that belongs to yesteryear.
Those girls who are as similar as two peas in a pod.
... But one only eats peas as a kid and his mom had something to do with it.
To the girls I grew up with.
Who looked like copies of one another and dressed the same.
They do say life is a school, but do not uniform your personalities.
Do not uniform who you are.
Those girls who acted the same...
And when were dreams ever the same??
When could two people ever look at clouds and have similar views?
When could two people ever go to sleep and visit one land of dreams?
Oh, but those girls could...
To the girls I grew up with.
I keep exploring this black and white painting of yours.
Hoping I'd spot a drop of blue paint somewhere - somehow.
I keep searching for rainbows in a world like yours.
& all I end up with are puddles of water
created by tears you have once cried.
Yet, you do not admit your eyes have ever witnessed water.
You do not admit your cheeks have ever felt running rain.
& all I end up with are puddles of water.
Puddles of water that reflect my face beseeching for hope.
And the harder I look,
the more I end up with just puddles of water.
To the girls I grew up with.
Those girls who got married at a young age.
Who dropped out of school, cut corners, and took the easy road out.
Who turned down opportunities that were beyond their world.
To the girls who got married at a young age, to boys who were not raised to appreciate a girl.
Boys who locked them behind doors,
who hid them away from the rest of the world,
who ****** the life that was left out of them,
& who blew the candle ignited in them;
that flame that showed them the way...
To the girls who put up with those boys
& I never knew why they wouldn't just leave.
But more importantly, I wouldn't understand why they'd be there in the first place.
To the girls I grew up with.
I request answers to questions that haunt me.
Answers to questions that never leave me as I look at you.
As I look at the fragile girls you turned out to be.
What happened to your voices??
For you do not speak up; haven't you been hushed long enough??
What happened to your feet??
For you do not run freely on this earth; do you even remember what the wind feels like??
To the girls I grew up with.
Those whom I can't hold a conversation with.
We do not meet on common grounds.
I do not know how to converse in this language you speak with.
I do not spot the view from your corner of the earth.
& I can't wrap my head around your world...
Those girls who do not hear my words.
My words bounce off that bubble they've been emerged into.
And their words haunt my thoughts as I think of that prison they have sentenced themselves into.
Those walls they've built with their own bare hands,
Thinking they're locking the world out, but they only trap themselves in.
To the girls I grew up with,
I was never truly around; just a stop on the way to the true world.
But I can't help but wonder about
those girls I grew up with.
Those girls with diverse stories, plots, and twists,
but shared the same book cover,
& shared the same synopsis;
& soon enough sentences on pages will be adjusted,
& words will alter,
& they'll share the same story.
Those girls who lost the essence of standing against the crowd -
Who are not going anywhere further than the crowd.
... But one only reads a book once.
To the girls I grew up with.
Those girls who changed themselves to fit in a society that belongs to yesteryear.
Those girls who are as similar as two peas in a pod.
... But one only eats peas as a kid and his mom had something to do with it.
To the girls I grew up with.
Who looked like copies of one another and dressed the same.
They do say life is a school, but do not uniform your personalities.
Do not uniform who you are.
Those girls who acted the same...
And when were dreams ever the same??
When could two people ever look at clouds and have similar views?
When could two people ever go to sleep and visit one land of dreams?
Oh, but those girls could...
To the girls I grew up with.
I keep exploring this black and white painting of yours.
Hoping I'd spot a drop of blue paint somewhere - somehow.
I keep searching for rainbows in a world like yours.
& all I end up with are puddles of water
created by tears you have once cried.
Yet, you do not admit your eyes have ever witnessed water.
You do not admit your cheeks have ever felt running rain.
& all I end up with are puddles of water.
Puddles of water that reflect my face beseeching for hope.
And the harder I look,
the more I end up with just puddles of water.
To the girls I grew up with.
Those girls who got married at a young age.
Who dropped out of school, cut corners, and took the easy road out.
Who turned down opportunities that were beyond their world.
To the girls who got married at a young age, to boys who were not raised to appreciate a girl.
Boys who locked them behind doors,
who hid them away from the rest of the world,
who ****** the life that was left out of them,
& who blew the candle ignited in them;
that flame that showed them the way...
To the girls who put up with those boys
& I never knew why they wouldn't just leave.
But more importantly, I wouldn't understand why they'd be there in the first place.
To the girls I grew up with.
I request answers to questions that haunt me.
Answers to questions that never leave me as I look at you.
As I look at the fragile girls you turned out to be.
What happened to your voices??
For you do not speak up; haven't you been hushed long enough??
What happened to your feet??
For you do not run freely on this earth; do you even remember what the wind feels like??
To the girls I grew up with.
Those whom I can't hold a conversation with.
We do not meet on common grounds.
I do not know how to converse in this language you speak with.
I do not spot the view from your corner of the earth.
& I can't wrap my head around your world...
Those girls who do not hear my words.
My words bounce off that bubble they've been emerged into.
And their words haunt my thoughts as I think of that prison they have sentenced themselves into.
Those walls they've built with their own bare hands,
Thinking they're locking the world out, but they only trap themselves in.
To the girls I grew up with,
I was never truly around; just a stop on the way to the true world.
But I can't help but wonder about
those girls I grew up with.
