So girl, though you believe, and rage, and build, and break,
All at the same time,
They sculpt a sacred stereotype, all for your own sake-
A useful paradigm.
The battles leave you bleeding, bones throbbing with adrenaline,
But morning paints your face clean- there was no war, no win.
The prayers and the silences, and all you saw and know,
Aren’t much of any consequence, if they disturb the show.
So go on, dance between the flames; but real girls don’t get burned.
We simply sit, and in our skirts, hide all the things we’ve learned.

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