Bottled Up Thoughts

A t the age of 10, The earth for me, was all flat. Disputes often put off/In exchange  of a toffee or two. Watching clouds move  Hunting rainbow tails for gold  And witty stories of the hare, were daily doses of joy. By the age of 15, I knew it all, i thought. Broken vases/forgotten friendships Wishing over fallen eyelashes and shooting stars. Keeping diaries was an art. Love was the boy, With a cute smile and blushed cheeks. I'll be 19 in a month. Is the skin bruised or my heart I'm perplexed. I go on long walks, all alone. One down the memory lane. I knew, Growing up is all magical. It's growing out of cradles and uniforms, Of fancy habits/foolish fantasies, And growing out of toxic men. It's much like  the autumn that sees its leaves  wither and die. For the newborns to gleam all green Under the radiant sky.                                                                                       

You are a girl. Know how you will never be told  Of Cinderella who killed her step mother later when she was the Queen. Or how Ariel, the mermaid, almost killed the prince  soon after he married someone else. They're all afraid you'd know how a stranger  made love with the sleeping beauty,  all without her consent. You are a girl. You are never told the tales of the strong, of the women with imperfections. They won't tell how adorable your dreams And scars on your wrists are, And how they need not be hidden anymore. You are a girl. You are more than just geometry, or failed attempts at symmetry. You are more than your curved lines and edges and body angles. You are more than your body. You are to grow up to be the woman, With real flaws and issues of your own. Grow up, not to be a princess in wait of her prince charming, to get rescued. Grow up to be the Queen of your kingdom.                            

From hiding their pain behind those fierce faces, to secretly crying on the pillows 'Cause tears were meant for the weak, For the women. From standing taller all day long To silently wishing  for a shoulder to rest on after work, 'Cause they're asked to be  A man. Heavy hairy chests as they adore While they wither in the insides. Craving for the sweetest chocolates  To fearing of their worst insecurities, They do it all For none to be known. Hiding the cutest child within, As you hold on for a little longer they'll unveil it all. They say, Men will be men. Three letters. And so much to justify. Long as i think, To be a man is overrated For they could just walk along and not ahead of one.                                                                            - J