Girl’s Bathroom (this is what it means to be a girl)

Fluttering eyes and red lips

masked the emptiness of being seen.

At times, I would look in the mirror,

searching for imperfections of my own.

Often, I’d find a blemish or more—

nothing that should disrupt my world.

I was safe inside this crowded room,

where boys and monsters weren’t allowed.

But did it really matter

if we all brought them inside?

Even when they’re not here,

we never stop trying.

My gaze is stained with their whispers.

I stare at a reflection I cannot see.

It has dimensions beyond my reach,

washing away all the remnants of me.

I see the writings on the wall,

and I think of all the girls that have left themselves here, too.

Will I disappear someday in this bathroom?

Along with the paint covered in marks,

Etched upon the glass for others to misjudge.

I want to stop emptying myself,

of my own mind.

I want to see myself through my own eyes.

The whispers linger, I will silence.

Because this is what it means to be a girl.