Not a Compliment


When I was nine I wore a B-cup

I looked about fourteen and I sat outside the dollar store

Eating a popsicle next to my mom.

More than one man passed me and stared.

I still don't eat popsicles.

Now, don't get me wrong;

I love a good compliment.

But I wasn't aware that blowing your horn

When I'm minding my own business

Or yelling "NICE ASS" out your truck

While I'm on my way to a funeral

Constitutes as a compliment.

Because I keep my head down
Wear baggy clothes

Bind down my chest

Walk in groups

Because if one more man

Compliments my tits

And is old enough to be my father

I might just go mad.

You are not flattering me.

You are creepy.


Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741