i kinda hate being pretty
the kind of pretty that makes boys stare
not at my eyes or at my soul
but at my hips and below
i wonder if I have a face at all sometimes.
My lips must be there as they are greeted often
But simple things like fingertips, or the eyelashes
I spent 13 minutes perfecting,
Are often neglected
It must be because I’m skinny
That people find me attractive
Because it is never my words or my face
That they want to sleep with
I realize now I am no person
I am a product to consume,
A means to an end.
Someday I won’t have this body
What will I do then?