Writing

We'll march with cardboard signs

rainbow letters pretend

that we're happier than we are 

because we understand

the depth of this hole we've dug ourselves

into

the fire we've fed 

As girls we’re taught many things at a young age. 

We’re taught what’s considered “ladylike,” and what’s not, 

Keeping us in line to better fit society's mold.

In the blustery cold of today’s noonday sun, I stand holding a sign amongst a group of people with similar signs.

I hold my prefrontal cortex with the shame of

sinking, water lilies seeping from my lips into the grey-green

marsh I call (uselessly) 

home.

My mind hisses with the strain of too many canned-up voices

saying

I sighed as I set my car in park and opened the doors. I sat on the edge of my car seat for a while pondering what my life had become. But I had no other choice. Time for another day of work.

Half winter, half spring. 
It's like the seasons were cut in half 
Severed at its ends 
Last year, winter 
was freezing cold. 
Like how it 
should be. 
This year, it's