I no longer want to be that girl.

The one to waltz another person’s whirl.

The one who sits on mountaintops,
but at a word –
LOOK AT HER DROP!

I no longer want to be that girl.

The one whose dreams in others’ hands unfurl.

The one who traded in her mind
to leave nobody else behind,
but –

I no longer want to be that girl.

The one whose love the boys wear strung as pearls.

The one whose heart,
not polished up,
has now just ruptured –
ruptured up, and

I no longer for them am that girl.

 

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