A Town Called Girlhood

There is a town called Girlhood,

And it sits on a hill.

I once came for a visit;

I remember it still.

The people that still live there

Are quite charming and clean.

They are glittering, perfect;

They are tall, tan, and lean.

But a visit to Girlhood

Comes with some strings attached;

In the end, you’ll be perfect,

But there is a small catch.

Take off all of your clothing,

And stand utterly still.

It’s winter, you’re shivering?

Here, have some more pills.

Won’t you give them a smile?

That is all that they ask.

Won’t you paste on those dimples?

Let them stitch up your mask.

While you’re at it, sweet darling,

You should cry tears of gold.

Glittering shine down pale cheeks,

Standing naked and cold.

Perhaps you could bleed sunshine,

Shit icing, turn to stone.

They say you shouldn’t eat that much;

Let them see your collarbone.

With all the smiling that you do,

Aren’t your cheeks awfully sore?

Those terrible, perfect people

Are always lusting for more.

During your visit to Girlhood,

What did they ask you to do?

Did they say to keep it secret

When they put their hands on you?

I fled from Girlhood years ago,

With a suitcase in my grip,

And my heaviest winter coat

To cover my scars, bruised hips.

I hope you make it out alive,

Break out of your prison cell.

If you’ve got naught between your legs,

Then I’m sure life will be hell.

Being there may turn you wooden,

Till you wish that you had fled.

But Girlhood never existed;

It was only in our heads.

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