Sometimes, I’m too thin, sometimes, too bloated,

Sometimes, I’m too innocent, sometimes, too eroded.

You tell me to be feminine, then mock me for being soft,

You call me beautiful, as if I’d be worthless if I were not.

 

What a conundrum it is, to exist as a girl,

In a world that doesn’t let us fully unfurl,

Where our success is measured in terms of marriage,

Where not wanting kids paves way for disparage.

Where our value lies in preserving our chastity,

For if we don’t, we’ve doomed our dignity, 

Where we’re mocked for existing outside of rules,

And if we raise our voices, we’re fools.

 

But I’m only human; flesh and bone,

Is it too much to ask; a life of my own?

Where I won’t be scrutinized for every breath I take,

Everything I do, every decision I make?

Why must you hurt me with those insults you hurl?

What a conundrum it is, to exist as a girl!