Smooth your dress. 

Is it hitching up your legs? 

Is it showing an inch too much, of such, that you need to pull it down?

Wipe the color off your eyes.

Is there too much make-up on your face? 

Do I need to be realistic, or can I have my head in the clouds?

Am I allowed?

 To paint my lips, and wing my eyelids?

Or is society pushing me down, down, down?

Confirming that I- no matter how much gloss is on my face- will never be enough?

Tough. I need to be tough, so I can be equal in this equation, so I can matter, so my goddamn dress doesn’t need to be straightened so that I can break that glass ceiling and rise above my station.

Will that even be enough? 

Smooth your dress.

You’re just a girl, so don’t show off what you got, if you got, if you want it. If you want it, if you want a life, smooth down your dress and cross your legs. 

Cross, your, legs. 

And keep them crossed. 

Because even if you’re begged, or dragged, or bossed around-

No one will believe you anyway. 

They think that we’re naive, so to believe us they need proof. 

Proof of what is happening, what has happened, and what will. 

Smooth your dress.

Is it hitching up your legs?

 Is it showing an inch too much, of such, that you need to pull it down?

Is it just? Is it just that they decide? 

Just how short, or long, or baggy my dress will have to be?

Or is it my decision? Is it OUR decision? Do WE have the power to stand UP and decide just how SHORT or LONG or BAGGY our dresses can be?

What if I want to have wings on my eyelids, color over my eyes?

What if I want clothes that hug me?

What if? 

Well, that’s MY choice to decide.