I’m just a girl

My mind is figuratively empty

Filled with the simplicity of the mundane

My contributions to culture are like puffs of glitter

They are common though admirable and short lived

My intelligence is menial and is lacking in substance

My thoughts go unannounced and unnoticed

I’m just a girl

I am an ornament

Quietly gracing the arm of a boy

Who as it suits him bestows on me cheap compliments

Branding me his personal toy

A toy that is used for amusement

And carries the burden of his impatience with my bruises

Left in the dirt when I’m used up

I must have no complaints or excuses

I’m just a girl

My heart is an open book

It is meant to be a journal

For bits and pieces of the stories of others

For their sketches and doodles

For its pages to be ripped out and crumpled

Worn out and taken apart

Till it no longer resembles a heart

It is for renting and borrowing

For sharing and renovating

But as long as I’m alive

It is supposed to perform just fine

I’m just a girl

I believe pleasing others is the only path to admiration

My physical form must be perfection

I must control my passions at all times

My joy, my grief, my dreams, my identity I should burry

I accept the vagueness of my humanity

Because no one has taught me differently

I’m just a girl