Feelings

Who Cares?

Who cares,
If my shoulders are showing,
I guess I shouldn't be that distracting?
Who cares,
If my fingertips,
The ones ecpected to give you a handjob on the first or second date,
Exceed the length of my most conservative shorts?
Who cares,
If my undefined collarbones are exposed for my male teachers to see and stare at throughout the whole lesson?
Who cares,
If my spaghetti strap tank shows that I, a teenage girl, wears a bra to school, where it would be socially unacceptable to go without?
Who cares,
If my makeup defines my features and is a part of my everyday routine?
Who cares if the phrase,
"False advertising" is screamed at me by fuck boys and administrators that won't listen to a word I say because I'm only a silly teenage girl, right?
Who cares,
That my mother,
and her mother,
and her mother before her,
were told to stand up for what they believe in,
To be strong,
Independent,
But none of us are legitimate until we have a ring on our finger and a baby on the way. That sounds equal right?
Who cares?
If my children,
That I am forced to have whether I am prepared or not,
Grow up in a world that screams at them to be both unique
And not to be different at the same time,
While guns are being fired at them from their classroom door?
Who cares?