mommy,
you told me i was made of
the galaxy
and its brightest stars.
then why did grandpa frown upon my sight
and make us sit at another table?

mommy,
you told me to sit with my legs crossed,
when i mimicked older brother,
and sat just like him to fit in.
why didn't he cross his legs?
isn’t he, too, made of the galaxy?

mommy,
the boys in the playground
didn't let me play with their cars.
i’m sick of barbie dolls.
what's so wrong with toy trucks?
they pulled my hair,
and told me they liked me.
why, then, did they hurt me?

mommy,
the boys at school
kept asking me 
to show them what's under my skirt.
but i made sure to keep my galaxy safe,
the way you told me to.
why, then, did they call me 
a prude?

mommy,
i saw you cry.
your eyes were bruised,
and your lips were swollen,
and daddy is now gone.
didn't you protect me all this time?
why couldn't you protect yourself?

mommy,
why are the answers to
all my questions 
the same?
why do they keep saying:
i'm “just a girl”?
are they correct?
what happened to my galaxy
and all its brightest stars?