I didn't know what to write so I created a poetic text, which hopefully expresses the discomfort of females everyday life.
Females. A beauty, cuffed with the social chains of reality. We are told to be silent, and to never show thought. We are told to sit down and swallow our pride. We are told we are weak and our goals aren’t realistic. Voices of silence, that our happiness turns to suffering. That gets saturated behind closed doors. Which gets lost in translation. The dept of this silence echos though generations and our childish youth shatters into our strict rules to survive. Don’t show off or your asking for it, don’t be loud or your annoying, don’t wear makeup or your insecure, don’t speak without being spoken to, don’t raise your voice or be heard, don't put yourself out there, or your asking for it, don’t start a fight because your to weak to finish it. You have to look 'perfect', slim waste, curves, no fat, long hair, clear skin, not tall but not short, and this is only the basics of our society. Peer pressure isn’t the problem it’s the fact we cannot feel pretty or worth any value with these rules. Suffocating young females, intoxicating them with twisted lies of men. Why should we surcome to these rules. When did men decide our value by how we look. To rate us. To tell us we are not good enough for you, so they toss us aside, to prey on another victim. The truth lies within these thoughts. How are we supposed to trust with the fake faces of hope in each person we meet. How has the world concluded to this. The everlasting fear intertwined with the absence of self love.
