i am getting older
my hips have grown wider than the great oak trees i used to climb
my face has grown longer
my sweet baby cheeks are hollowing out
and the men of oakland have begun to allow their eyes to linger, for just a moment too long

the women on the screen are plunging needles into their skin
to prevent the apples of their cheeks from ever growing mushy
slicing and dicing to sharpen each angle of her vindicated female form
and the sweet girls in the schoolyard have lost their innocence to retinol and niacinamide
trading in their halloween candy for sephora hauls

is that all that aging is?
a never ending war against my mother’s creation
benumbing each muscle and tendon until they render limp
like a deer in headlights
her giggles are no longer boundless
her eyes can no longer cry with passion
her jaw can no longer scream with the rage of a thousand daughters
she can only stare, paralyzed bambi eyes begging for a savior

we no longer hide haunted dolls in the attic confined
instead, they walk amongst us, half woman and half plastic combined
our indoctrinated women, so horrific and grim,
even the scariest of bedtime stories lose their whim

what about my smile lines from all the times i laughed until i felt my lungs would give out
why must i hide them? 
and circles that droop from my eyes? each time i see them i will reminisce on nights spent dancing until dawn with aching feet and a sweaty glow
and my worry lines from all the days that felt they would never end
from the moments i begged for a savior
until i realized, the savior was myself
why should i ever want to hide my face’s beacons of survival

why must our women feel such shame, 
for surviving life’s unpredictable game?