FIFTEEN
I woke up, in bed I lay
time for another restless, draining day.
I get dressed, for men to think they should be impressed.
I’m fifteen years old.
On the way to school, a man snickered and said I looked cool.
I kept my head down, holding back a frown.
I’m tired.
I’m fifteen years old.
In school, the boys tease.
They say they’re the ones I should please.
I just want to be respected, not to be objectified.
I’m fifteen years old.
At home, I let my thoughts roam.
My dad yells; this is hell’s version of earth.
Another tiring day done, another “fun” one to come.
I’m only fifteen years old.
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Featured image credits to Alexandra_Koch on Pixabay
