Just a Girl

Yes. I am a girl, 

and no, that doesn't make me weak.

I'm a girl, 

and no, that doesn't make me meek.

Just because I'm shorter and smaller

doesn't mean you can holler

at me, and cat call as I walk by, 

or make fun of me just because I cry.

But I'll brush it off,

because I'm just a girl.

And no, that doesn't mean I'm emotional or moody,

or that my beauty

is measured in models and double zeroes, 

when women are only ever saved by "heroes".

In a world where starvation is glorified, 

and I'm horrified

to walk outside my front door.

Just waiting to be called a whore

because God forbid I should step out of line, 

and draw the attention of a random guy

who sees my body as a conquest. 

Because I get reprimanded when I protest, 

because my place is in the kitchen. 

So I should just quit my bitching

about how women are treated,

keep myself seated. 

Because I am just a girl. 

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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