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Poem

The internet kills me. Just as it has for many other little girls. As it twists the narrative into making us look like items. Items that can be used as you please because we have no control over even our own souls. With no control over our bodies, we’re looked at like we’ve committed a crime but we haven’t. Unless the crime of being born in the wrong gender is worth a life sentence. I’m confused. Confused about why we women have to be controlled by those who don’t even know how we live. As our little girls are told lies. Lies of how they must act or will be attacked by the men who can’t control themselves and wreck an innocent girl's perfect image. Our perfect image of men from the movies and our perfect image of innocence are ripped away by society's twisted hypocrites that sway the women to act as they like instead of telling the problem to keep their eyes to themselves. As we crack like the mirrors that give us a twisted image of our beauty making our little girls feel puny. We feel weak. Because we have no voice in this hypocritical society. Women are the producers of the next generation yet are still treated like we are nothing but the carriers of the future. But we are more than that. We are strong, but our actions are futile. Because in 20 some years all our work will be overturned by the men who think they control us. The men who make us feel worthless. The men sew our mouths shut with sutures to stop us from protecting our future.

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