Girls

My mother used to tell me
big girls don’t cry,
but then I had my heartbroken
and I felt the ache inside my
chest as I tried
to be strong.
I remember Kelly Clarkson singing
about the boys
who leave,
and dancing around my
room with my hairbrush.
I shushed the voices
in my head as they told me I
was weak.
14 was such a funny age to
grow up and see the
world with blurred eyes.
I remembered the smoke
I smelled at school
and the way I tried
to change who I was.
Shoelaces and braces
were such a combo.
The days of 15 were so
bleak I tried to erase
them from my head.
I would have slept that
whole year if I could.
I still remember the way
every girl came together
to beat the way
they tried to make us small.
We were tall, brave and rules
weren’t for us.
I would have smoked 16
cigarettes if it changed
the way I was seen.
Growing up was such a change.
Sia told me that big girls cry
and the world wasn’t so dark.
We ruined our make up together,
and revolted against what they
wanted.
Big girls did cry, and it was okay.

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