Hello and welcome to the internet,
Where everyone is brave enough
To say what a face wouldn't,
Because looking into tears,
Makes it much harder to hate,
But a glaring screen and autocorrect,
Gives you cowardice coated in bravery.

I wish I could spare you words like beautiful, babe, figure and thin.
I wish I could guarantee you a complete disregard for the size of your *******
Or the length of your legs.
I pray never to find you hunched over the toilet
Or hiding a sandwich under books in your bag.
What will the equivalent of cyberbullying be, in ten years time?
I will try, so very hard, to keep you safe.

Please, always talk to each other, and to me.
Share your heart’s bleedings
And I will help you staunch the flow.
I will find the courage to share my failings
And the confidence to pass on my successes,
Both were instrumental in my becoming the woman I am,
A woman I hope you will be proud of, and applaud.

It is hard to be a woman, in this world,
Urged, relentlessly to perfection,
Bombarded with it, drowned in it,
But perfection is a myth, and becomes imperfect with attainment,
It is the imperfections that will mesmerise,
Embrace them, love them, let them shine.

How long did it take me to learn these lessons?
Have I learned them, even now?
Sometimes I think I have, then I become overwhelmed
By anxiety and self-doubt.
This will happen to you too,
I cannot hope to save you from it
But I can provide some armour.

Think for yourselves,
Reject the babble and the screens, the illusion of celebrity
Twenty-first century addictions.
Do not become a slave to technology.
I can see how hard that will be,
But it must be done, if you are to remain people,
Retain your humanity.
I will help you; I will hold your hands.

You are tiny now, but I can see the strength within you both,
And I will nurture it, protect it,
Then it will protect you, out there.
I promise I will always be your tigress,
But you will not always be my little cubs
I will have to find a way to sheath my claws,
And let you stalk your own prey,
And evade the predators, just as I have done.

I watch you, playing happily together in the sun,
And wish you peace, and love, and joy.
Such simple things, yet so elusive.
I will not show you this poem.
But I will read it, frequently,
And try to keep my promises.
My heart thuds in my chest, each a double-beat
A constant repetition of your names,
Tattooed onto my soul.

Magic and lies
I don't want people to see it either

I read a play
about a woman
who was slowly
being drawn into insanity
Called
A Streetcar Named Desire
her name was Blanche Dubois
pronounced 'Dubwa'

and I could relate
to the way she swayed
between reality and fantasy

how she felt
when she said
she wished to give
magic
to people
and that was the only
reason she lied
so to cover up the darkness
the unaccepted insides
the parts she knew
nobody would like

the way she craved
to fill in a space
which she deep down knew
would never go away
I was in her shoes
I heard the polka music too
and the BANG
I felt the pain
in my own way
through this women
who was made up
for entertainment
who doesn't even exist

and I'd never tell a soul but you
will you keep my secret?