little red

be small. soft voice, cute sweater, and aren’t i so adorable and useless? and oh big bad wolf, please don’t hurt me. because i’m not sure i can take it.

but it’s fine. feel free to treat my heart as your shooting range, my head as your punching bag. because kids will be kids, and it’s just to be expected, and it’s fine. this is fine.

and oh, am i taking up space in this room? or am i asking too many questions, or making you think about the things you wish you knew? i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to. 

i’m sorry, fuck you. honestly. you don’t get to tell me who i’m gonna be. or what i’m gonna do. i’m not your victim. i’m not seven years old anymore. so go ahead. try to push me around, just like you did back then. pluck my lungs right out of my chest. tell me i’m ugly, and stupid, and useless. tell me i’m nothing without you.

and don’t come crying home to me when the old threats don’t work like they used to.


This poem is based on some things I’ve been thinking about a lot at school, and feeling a little myself. Because of the bullying I went through as a kid, I tend to immediately go into this victim-mindset–that I’m useless, paralyzed, defenseless, that I can’t do anything to fight back against any future threat, whether physical or emotional. I actually wrote the first draft of this while procrastinating on an assignment on a school computer–I guess I just wanted to explore those thoughts, understand them, and challenge them a little bit. As always with poems written like this, I just want to say that these things are not true. Whether because of your gender, a mental illness, a past experience–you are not weak. You don’t deserve to be pushed around. This poem exists to map out those thoughts as a way of processing them and–not because those things are actually true. I hope you can remember that. ❤

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