Messing with imperfection

Little girls where not
born with the knowldge
of how to hate themselves.
So-
we decided to teach them how.

Sanding away their indivuality and
coloring over their inocents,
with dolls and play makeup-
instructing them to paint over their,
prepubestant eyes.
So that with any luck,
we would not have to see the person inside.


"This is what a girl should be"


Apionting Barbie to the possition of God,
our false idol of perfection.
Looking upon them
with the blasfamy of judgment in our eyes
We have tought little girls who crave to be women,
that it is all legs, and and hips,
and cat call,
with double digit weights.

Once they have grown past the point of our control,
they wonder where the self hate comes from.
If they really are strong young women,
or are those teachers who tell them are just patronizing.

Who is to blame?

We have found a way to,
rape the freeodm out of summer dresses.
Produced groups of men who can
and steal womens bousses with knife sharp looks.

Taught our boys to
persocute the first of them
that shows emomtion.

Earased all sighnes of humanity ,
with the same wipe we use,
to remove tears.

"Boys don't cry"

Once their hearts are finally void of emotion.
We send our only sons to fight
for causes they know little of.
While simultainiously ending their funerals,
with a salute from the same things that killed them.

And I ask you,
Who is to blame?