Bedtime Stories

Bedtime Stories

Hush my child

don’t say a word

the world

isn’t in the habit

of believing in little girls.

Power is made for giants

but females go on diets

a metaphor

for being taught

less is more,

selling matchsticks

when they should be starting riots.

Cut to Cinderella

waiting for her cakes to rise,

she’s baked her rage

into something more ladylike.

It’s like

the fucking air’s been spiked

and the woman outspoken

is the evil witch queen never welcome

who always threatens the fun.

Breed silence;

so when.

she grows up.

she can’t.

use her tongue.

to form a sentence.

so she’ll make believe her own fairytale

and go down for life.

It’s all about becoming a suitable wife,

those burning their eyes

with their mirror mirror on the wall

won’t have the energy to fight.

Do you remember

when you first started

giving a fuck?

Do you remember

when you stopped?

Born with unlimited choices

but molded to mediocre,

she begged for legs

in exchange for the whole sea,

she was pretty

till she spoke

to the stranger

and then the Big Bad Wolf ate her.

Lesson learnt;

should have played dead

and don’t say what’s in your head.

Hesitate

and anger festers.

They say beauty comes

from a woman well rested,

fuck your beauty standards,

performance abandoned.

So hush my child

don’t say a word

be like your favourite princess,

Sleeping Beauty is the perfect girl.

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