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Keiri Aug 21
You don't know what being a girl is like!

You don't know the efforts of looking good every day.
You don't know the annoying fact nobody listens to what you say.

You don't know the feeling of noticing a leak between your legs.
Or bloodstains all over your pants.
Or the pressure to do something girly, like make-up and dance.

You don't know how it feels to be looked at.
When you like your legs wide open while you sat.

You don't know the aching of your hips, back and lower abdomen when it's full moon!
You don't know the cravings that come with it, and you stuff yourself t'ill noon.

You don't know how it feels to put a ****** in.
You don't know how insecure we've been.

You will never know and it's a sin...

But if you do know...

You don't know what being a boy is like!

You don't know the pressure of becoming tall.
You don't know the aching dissapointment, when you can't play ball.

You don't know what it's like to be expected to be able to walk alone at night.
Not being able to be scared, or talk about your fright.
No one will understand that boys can be hurt too at night.
You don't know what it's like to be frowned at if you cry with all your might.

You don't know what it's like to be insecure.
But not able to talk about what you feel for sure.
Having the pressure to grow the muscles and endure.
So you could fit in...

You will never know and it's a sin

But if you do know...
You know what it feels like to be different...
S C Netha Jun 2018
Because it's hard to say i love you
I'll say you're crazy.
And that you should throw yourself away.
I'll say you're annoying and difficult
And i don't know why i talk to you.
Because it's hard to say i love you
I'll say every other thing but
the three words i need to say the most.

Because it's hard to say i love you
I'll argue with you day and night
because i don't want to stop talking to you
I'll overreact and act dumb
over the little things because
I love in unhealthy ways.
And because it's hard to say i love you
I'll wait for you to say it first.
Because patriarchy
and die inside everyday that you don't
Say the words i need to hear the most.

Because it's hard to say i love you
You'll stand me up on our first date
and then ask me if i want to be your bae
I'll say yes after five days
Because i really want to play it cool.
And not make you think i actually love you.
I'll give you all the benefits
And you'll perform none of the responsibilities.
I'll let you off the hook each and every time
You decide we're getting too serious.
Because it's hard to say i love you


I'll love you silently and destructively
Our love will tear me down and
burn my personality to the ground
And by the time you leave all I'll be is an empty shell.
Hollow and dark on the inside
Because i can't say that i love you
I'll **** myself on the inside.


Or i could tell you that i love you
I know you will run because I've scared you; because you know, patriarchy.
But at least I'll live to love another boy
And live to appreciate another day
At least i won't **** myself over you
Even though I'm pining over you.
Maybe you might even say you love me too, because ***** patriarchy!
And you thought that i didn't love you
Because it's hard to say i love you.
Aint it. Frustrating.
Amanda May 2016
There is pretty
bubbling
a faulty science experiment
on the verge of the most compliant shade of peach
blanketing itself even beneath the dirt
of my fingernails.

Daddy can you open this?
Because spoonful’s of
Mommy can’t
Never sat well
on the tip of your tongue
nor the bottom of your stomach.

The click
Resonating in my ears like a clatter
of spinning off the head
Of a bottle of red polish
Black clouds of acetone
and nights worth drowning
in salty tear-duct rain
spill over your fingers flawlessly
the way you wish pretty would
on every square inch
of your not-pretty-enough.
But pretty is all sealed up
In the same transparent plastic wrap
That clutches each brain stem
The way grubby clawed tentacle-men
grab your ***
choke every dose of ill-met
red lipstick mirror encounters
from you
and every you
ten-years in the making.

You look so pretty
on the outside
but no one wants to see
your landmines
zip modesty up to your neck
every morning
before you leave your apartment
to enter a circus
the confines of impending death
each man and each billboard
equally a lion
but please
for the love
of your ****-*******-face
****-*******-face
****-*******-face
be pretty
hold white teeth to your skull
and your skull to a fragile pair
of rose-meadow-shoulders
remember to ignore the thorns
relentlessly.

Pretty is easy
as a puncture wound.
Pretty is the only green light
In one thousand miles.
Don’t be a girl—
You’ll be okay.

— The End —