My Little Black Book

Everyone's got a story to tell...but not everyone's got someone to share it with.



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25. Growth

She called me 'woman'

She looked me up and down 

And then the statement did confirm

I was the subject of that noun

But...how?

How could one reach such a conclusion?

Was this a fact truth would allow?

For it held no support when I stared at my reflection

 

21 years and no letters added to my name

21 years and still hoping for credit to claim

Life has spoonfed me the answers

And thrown me out to the gutters

...Now she calls me woman

When I could not feel less human

..She repeats that word 'woman'

As my mind quickly interjects 'common'

 

Mirror, Mirror on the wall

Do I belong with them all?

For my age gives me the criteria

But my person lives through hysteria

My bubble is filled with smoke and self denial 

My face is  the portrait of the innocent's mistrial

Mirror, Mirror on the wall

Is 'woman' really the name they should call

 

Mother suggested I change my attire

For I am no longer a teenager

Should I change my character as well?

Use 'splendid' when I really want to say 'swell'

Rest a hand lightly on my chest and exclaim 'How dare you?'

Play the grown up part instead of yelling 'fuck you'

For one's womanly ways prevent from such juvenile recreation 

For one's womanly ways demand for elegance with a touch of sophistication

 

But I'll sit down, slumped on my chair

Wear heavy eyeliner underneath my untamed hair

Your stereotypical rebel of a tomboy

I never promised a sundress or look so coy

But still...she called me woman...

Accepting what I had rejected

Believing in me when I was dejected

And I wished I had been that woman

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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