poison rings & casket keys.

I.

little girl.
3.8.13

smart enough to know when
to run but not strong enough to
not have to carry a pocket knife.
to not have to watch how many
drinks i drink. to not have to walk
across a dark parking lot alone
with my keys between my fingers
like claws. dyed my hair as a 
warning and still i hear, “oh god,
put it in pigtails for me please.”
big enough to maybe hold my own
but not tough enough to act like
it doesn’t bother me when men
fetishize my body type. they could
toss me around, they could make
me beg, they could manhandle me
all they wanted and i’m supposed to
just smile and be grateful because
at least someone is paying me some
fucking attention. can’t wear plaid
skirts. can’t eat a lollipop in public.
can’t eat a fucking hot dog on the
              street in new york city. 

(Source: lifeinthearctic)