Boys Will Be Boys




1. his breath heavy in her ear, his hand heavier on her mouth. her eyes cloud over and the soft patter of her tears is like raindrops, her muffled cries like thunder, and she suddenly knows why hurricanes are named after people.

2. her eyes burn and the tear tracks on her cheeks are stained black from the mascara that coats her lashes. the bruises ache and the shouts are etched into her memory, the evidence of his fury shown not only on her skin, but on her mind.

3. the sun is setting over the horizon and her heels click on the pavement with the urgency of her step, keys tucked between her fingers like claws and her fear is wild, feral. her head snaps with every sound, but she is not so afraid of the dark as she is of what hides there.

4. “you're not like other girls,” he says, as if there was something wrong with the girls around her, as if she had to be something different, something better to be liked by him. as if she would want to be.

5. her mother tells her to “sit like a lady,” that “ladies don't cuss”, and at the end of the day, she always spits out that one phrase: “boys will be boys.”

This poem is about: 
My community
My country
Our world


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