Caught in between the lies
that I've been told by society
my whole life.
They say I have to wear this,
and show this much,
but not too much because then
that'd make me a whore.
I'm supposed to cover my face
with pounds of makeup to draw on the attention.
of perving men, with dirty eyes,
but be afraid of them because they might
take advantage of me.
Girls are supposed to stay pure,
but the moment they aren't
they are sluts,
we're whores,
does that make me worthless?
I think not.
Why is it that I'm judged on the course of my actions
that frankly nobody needs to know about?
And yet these people are first in line
to hear the deplorable things
that go on in between the sheets.
Only to shake their Goddamn heads
at the actions you've taken,
but refuse to see what's wrong with their own,
and the abhorrent things they've done.
Then they expect to hear riotous stories
of us girls doing wrong things with men
whose breath reeks of sour desperation,
like we rely on them
for our salvation,
our livelihood.
Because I'm a slut,
You're a whore,
We're simply worthless.
Because you're not clean,
you're not pure.
But neither are they.
Who fucking died
And made them king?
because last time I checked,
they were at fault of just as many sins as me.
It was them who told me to make myself
look like that sexualized pawn
because of the organs I was born with,
and to keep legs shut and eyes open.
But given the situation,
of my legs being open
my eyes better damn well be shut.
That way I can't tell them what happened
exactly the way it occurred
and then they could judge me more.
Like that's what I needed,
as if their tongues that dripped poison
is what I lived for.
And in the case you did stay clean,
uncontaminated,
pure.
You were quite frankly....
a bore.
Cause then what could they do
if they couldn't kick you to the floor?
Oh, i see.
Nothing.
Bore,
whore,
pure,
whore,
bore,
pure.
What does any of this actually mean...
****
This was my take on a slam poem, I hope it isn't awful
