I am trapped in this circus of beauty

the day I become a woman version of the little girl inside me

pushed into this whirlpool of

how to be and how not to be

and mind you there’s no escape

because you go deeper into it if you struggle to save yourself

the girls on the magazines will

haunt me forever

and for some reason will always be too powerful.

but when there’s makeup on my face

it is always a little too much

enough for them to assume my real self is U-G-L-Y

oh who knows, maybe?

but what a shame you are wasting your time wondering about the face that lies beneath

these standards of perfection that you are also responsible for

I understand feminism, he says with a faint smile

now I am free to abuse you just

like my male friends

oh what a privilege my friend

but sad how that’s the first thing that pops in your mind when someone talks about equality

however now the girl I ought to be is the delicate one

delicate enough for their fists to crush me in no time

I should have bigger eyes so they can place deceit in them, when I am busy dreaming of a safer world

my wrists should be tiny,

weak like a thread

so they can tie me to their ill version of patriarchy and stop me from going places

it is just a meme babe

I know how to respect the women in my life

do not take that damn joke seriously

and let your self esteem dissolve in the laughter that follows

this time I let out a soft giggle

but my heart refuses to believe

we live in a world that has learnt

how to balance the both of us

and even if we do,

why is it that every time I have an opinion

everybody leaves the room with

their eyebrows pulled up?

you leave

and I stretch my arms to create a pinpoint of my existence in this universe

but a shrill voice inside me tells me I’m asking for a lot of space

now where do I go,

I’m also a puppet in the game.


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