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?