i don't like it

entry im considering for the scholastic art and writing contest

i swear i don’t like it.

i know it’s my own fault,

for wearing tops that show off my breasts,

for wearing shorts you can barely see,

for making myself beautiful in the hopes someone will

look.

but i swear i don’t like it.

this is all i know. 

i don’t know how to live,

without being told i look like a porn star,

without stares from older men that linger, 

without disgust that bleeds through me

with every tilted down webcam. 

i swear i don’t like it.

it’s not my fault. 

what else was i meant to become

with my grandmother’s intrusion,

with the teacher’s grabbing hands, 

with the boy who begged for pictures,

because he thought my body was perfect.

i don’t like it.

i think my smile is pretty,

i think my hair is cute,

i think i give good hugs.

i think i want to be more

than a girl who feels sick

everytime her hand dips

into her pants.

i think i would like it,

if someone looked,

and saw.