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We were all born the same at different times,
‘Naked’ and closed eyes to the crime.
So why is she tugging down at her skirt,
In fear that we perceive her clothes as ‘too short’?
Yet wear non-fitted long skirts and be deemed as ‘unattractive’,
As they are not ‘appealing’ or ‘sexually attractive’.
But go out with shorter lengths and cropped up tops,
Labelled as ‘sluts’, ‘easy’, and ‘whores’.

Since when is having confidence and comfort in our bodies a crime?
Let’s not forget the effect on the men,
‘Not allowed to cry’ because it’s ‘strength’ they need to portray.
Tears streaming from a guy’s eyes are not what we seek,
For that shows ‘weakness’ in his mind it speaks.
Girls will howl that ‘boys will be boys’,
Associating them with cheating habits who treat us like ‘toys’.
Forgetting that our kind also does the same,
They are not as ‘simple-minded’ as most people would frame.
How much effort must it take?
To put on a facade just for our sake?
Of appearing ‘manly’ and ‘strong’,
‘Confident’ and ‘understanding’ of our emotional life songs?

Molding characteristics one should have before they can speak,
Isn’t it sad of this society preach?
That she must have traits that label ‘sensible’ or else perceived as ‘easy’,
Where she must keep her legs crossed or have shame to her name,
He must have traits that matches a lion’s roar,
Continuous fights until fist and mind grows sore.

Someone tell me, where is this rule?
‘Cause I’m growing sick of hearing this chatter,
Of how one should behave in this society’s matter,
Of society’s norms and values which is invisibly burnt into our minds.

Can someone highlight this ‘golden rule’?
‘Cause I’m growing aware of seeing the fear,
Where men and women cannot show their individualism because they are afraid,
Of being ‘judged’ so a false outer human shell had to be made.

Cause I’m growing angry of giving ‘the talk’,
To all genders for they feel broken whilst they walk,
As unknowing shadows are portraying ‘disgusted’ looks,
For they are not fitting enough for their ‘wanted books’.

And I’m growing worn and I’m getting torn,
‘Cause it’s like I should be embarrassed to have ever been born,
‘Cause I am judged no matter what I do,
‘Cause it’s as if a body is something you shouldn’t grow accustomed to,
‘Cause I am one with a different mind,
‘Cause it’s like my outer appearance tells you my stories inside,
But you do not know me,
And I’m not stuck like a ‘label’,
My clothes or my appearance do not define my own tales.
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