I'm still expected to turn, And see your face, Wherever I am, Wherever you go, Wherever you stand, I'm still expected to think of you, And what I did, Reminded each and every day, Of what I was expected to do, To not do, To be the perfect little girl, Who loved, Who cleaned, Who was expected only speak when spoken to, But what if I was expected to rebel? To be the bad little girl that society wanted me to be?