why doesn't he respond back to me?
why doesn't he love me?
simply, to be put,
you failed his expectations

I'm so sick and tired
of all of you boys who
act like I'm just a reachable toy
I'm not so shiny when your
hands touch and dull me
I'm so sick of the way you look
at me like I'm a prize
I'm sick and tired of these boys

I’m tired of being seen as a *****
My clothes do not determine my
Self worth that shields this body
I’m contained in by society’s views
Of what woman should do
I am not a *****
The words thrown at my face
Used by those who don’t wish to
Spread their legs
I am not a *****
By the way I dress
The way I speak
The way I look
You do not define me
A ***** if you decide to call
Me that so viciously
Maybe look in a mirror
And write the words
That speak from lip to lip
Over to where my ear is
Because I am not the *****
You speak of so easily

I fell in love with you five times
the first when you gradated
I've never cheered or let alone
screamed someones name so loud
that I had to cover my mouth
for being so embarrassed I had yelled
out your name in a crowd full of strangers
the second time was at the lake
when you held me in your arms while
my body still touched water
and your eyes glistened for the first time
I saw a future written with me in it
the third time you bought me a ring
for our 6 month anniversary
you spent hours looking for one and when
you popped it open and started to record
I couldn't think
is that what a proposal from you will feel like
the forth time
you chose me over your mother
but only for a second and I could feel
you finally being mine
the fifth and final time
is still sadly now

he buys flowers for her on Wednesdays
not because he's supposed to or
even if her last petal falls and she's
in need of a few more
but because Wednesdays are for her
she deserves ever last flower
on every single day
but ill stick to our Wednesdays
and buy her flowers meant for more

**** can go both ways
whether I wear a pretty
little thing or if I
wear sleeves that cover up
my shoulders but when
they decide to cut off my will
strangle me up and cut off my
pretty little wear to where it
hits onto the floor
don't tell me its my fault
that these things happen to us girls
for the things we wear to shield
our bodies from hands that do not belong
do not tell me **** is my fault
for the pretty things I wear

ill hold my breath
till the day you
say you love me under
hazy horizons that don't
have our names written
in the many skies