Titles that I later learned
Were not praise,
But meant to silence my thunder.
How dare I, a young woman
Feel something?
How dare I have the nerve
To share a thought,
That isn’t small and dainty.
I’m supposed to be a dandelion
In a field of landmines.
For too long, I listened.
I swallowed my dreams,
Suffocating in my own muteness.
It was better to be quiet and adored.
Pretty little girls don’t raise
Their voice or speak up
When the men are talking.
For too long, I choked back my own words,
As they filled my lungs,
And this pretty little girl
Struggled to breathe.
But no more.
I have discovered my voice.
And it will take more than
A thousand landmine fields
To shut up this dandelion.
flawedvegan 