When I grow up I want to be a girl

There are still ways

to hurt a girl

these days.

It is easy to throw an arrow through the mouth,

shout, wonder about with that book entitled

“I’m stronger, unbelievably stronger”

selfishly hinting, “you won’t ever read it”.

Ever.

Look around to confirm! At some point

there is a joint that is breaking apart.

decomposing

disconnecting some piece that wanted to scream but missed

the pitch humans can hear so it is perceived just like an itch

you scratch, move to trash and delete.

Who would have thought these days

a girl would be more of a trend and less of a rhyme

most of the time.

The hair is fine, the skin is shiny,

though not the same for the mind.

Who’s to blame for this shame, this

idolization of shallow perfection,

imperfect values,

underdeveloped education,

lack of morale?

We do the nails but we also get our hands dirty.

We’re perceived as a pretty face until we learn to turn it to the other side

and be twice the act we are: a first strike both to clean

prejudice, provoke admiration;

the other to keep the illusion of being ourselves under a clean slate.

A state of confusion, incremental, judgmental steps of character.

If myself is what I aspire to be, that is what I must bear.

Who would have thought

possible to live behind two displays?

Except there are not many ways

to hurt a girl

these days.

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