girl.

you’re probably this nice

because i’m a girl.

you’d definitely think twice

if i weren’t a girl.

you’ve probably gone once or twice over

because i’m a girl.

i’d for sure by now have lost my composure

if i weren’t a girl.

you look at me and i know what you see—

a simple thing— smart, but as quiet as a tree.

i’m not quiet though.

you talk over me.

i bet you wouldn’t talk so loud

if we weren’t humans, but bees:

because then I’d be the queen— the thing you see on TV

with heels trailing boys praising my pedigree.

but yet here we are, and we have come so far,

seeing the things the ancestors asked from the stars;

but i can’t help but know there’s still more,

more to us than “quiet”, “nice”, “bitch”, and “whore”.

would you be so crass with your words of smut

if you knew that the praise-worthy lineage

feels your words in my gut,

centuries of wrath unhinged.

because you still see a punching bag,

but i’m a damn girl.

yet you also see an iron maiden,

walking alone without a dragon,

but i am still— just a girl.

and don’t you worry— the dragon is there,

it’s never slain.

it’s what breathes my fire,

lays my claim.

this dragon knows all,

and it’s seen all of time.

and the best part about this dragon?

it’s the one thing that’s mine.

its nostrils flair and its eyes focus in;

this dragon tells me of all of your sin.

this dragon lurks at the bar,

it puts on a stare,

it seems them think you’re a star

and pretends not to care.

where you see a smile,

i smell blood.

i smell exile

where you see a stud.

where you see a damsel in distress

i see a hot me in a mini dress.

this dragon gives me all permission

to commiserate with mutual submission.

you’ll never see what we see, despite your best impressions,

you couldn’t handle it— it would make your head swirl.

i know you’ll never understand why I thank the heavens

that i am a girl.