Weaving My Hair into Strength

My fingers weave my hair into a braid

Twisting in the experiences I’ve faced:

The “girliness” insults

That say I’m not delicate enough,

The jokes about how I look,

The lies they use

To “boost” my confidence,

That really just make it crumble;

The way I could never tell

What was honest or not,

The feeling of dread

For whenever they began to speak,

The sadness that overcame me

When I realized that it was all a joke.

As I tangle the strands of hair,

Each overlap is a declaration

That I’ve overcome their comments,

Their lies and their insults,

That I have only become stronger,

That I’ve only became more me,

That I’ve only increased my beauty.



14 years old

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