How funny it is that when you describe a girl you call her pretty, call her beautiful, call her gorgeous.

Our girls grow up with the only compliments they receive to be ones remarking their bodies and yet we wonder why we can't get them to eat.

They grow up believing wither consciously or unconscious they are judges by the bodies.

That the size of their jeans is their caste.  

That if they aren't pretty they are nothing.

Our little girls slather on the makeup and step into their heels smile till the corners of their mouths crack as if life was a beauty pageant and success and happiness were prizes to be won.

When you describe a boy you call his strong, call him tough, call him powerful.

Put the weight of the world in his hands and hope he can handle it.

Our men lead the way and our girls follow.

Why when you see a girl you never call her intelligent, call her resourceful, call her powerful.

Imagine a world where little girls weren't just bodies.

They were the daughters of destiny and the friends of fate.

They could do anything, and they were told that from the second they could listen.

Imagine if our girls could look past their bodies, could pus aside shame and hate and learn to love the vessels.

Imagine if our girls were powerful.

There is a tree by my bus stop.
I do not know when it began flowering,
only that it is.
On each branch, there are delicate flowers, dousing the street in pink and white
magnolias.
she's coming up this summer, finally.
I wish I could show her.

I wish you could see it.

I'm a pair of pretty eyes
Or a cute dress
Nice lipstick

I'm never smart
Nor brilliant
Never inventive
Or resourceful
Not hardworking
Or persistent

Apparently all I am is eye candy

poetry ain't perfect if you are not there;
dress and suits are for models
but I don't want to see you unhappy,
so we'll pause
but don't worry, we'll quickly forward it
just give me his name
and I promise he will end up in my flame.

It's hard, I understand
But believe me
Trust me
That you're beautiful
You're beautiful
You're beautiful
And you're so ******* beautiful
Even the mirror claps
Even the camera cheers
So be happy and always remember that I'm always here
Be happy and say '*******' to all those skinny *******.

i think of people as if they're stars
billions are existing, brightly shining
each star necessary to complete variations of constellations
but when one star dies out, you can never complete it.

much like people,
billions are existing, brightly shining
unaware of the purpose they have
blinded by other's lights they forget their own
forgotten brightness, they forget the purpose they have
in other's lives.