They stitch up my mouth.
They attach strings to my hands and feet. A puppet to their will.
They dye my hair blonde.
They dress me in pink.
They tell me exactly how I should act.
They tell me exactly who they want me to be.
My hair is brown. My skin is tan. My eyes are sea-green. I have opinions, ideas. The immature guys want a girl who fits into a mold. Sometimes I wonder if a doll would better suit their fancy. A doll cannot speak. A doll cannot create conflict. But I am not a doll. I am talented and beautiful, precious and loving.
Someday, the right person will value me for who I am.
Follow me on Facebook! Search “Arielle Marie” to find me.
Check out my book! A little bit of God, love, common sense, and hope for the day.
“Following Your Feet, A Young Woman’s Journey”
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