the dos and donts are recited from the age of puberty
as mother becomes the teacher to teach me the rules of this society.
my blooming minds tries to mug up everything against my hobbies
for how can i keep my legs shut with learning to do gymnastics and long jumping.
my skirt should be below my knees and the shirt shouldn't be to tight to see through my porcelain skin,
for the beasts out there would become hungry at the sight of my growing thighs and my skin would tempt their greed to trace bruises and bites.
my eyes should be bowed down when their stare tries to burn through my skull
for an eye contact with him would mean consent to something i never asked for.
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yet,
i can't throw blindfolds at their thirsting eyes neither can i muffle their whistles by tying the cloth of courage around their filthy mouth resembling a devil's,
but just walk away with my head turned to the ground and hands gripping hard at the edges of my loose shirt.
