Strong Women
I saw the strong women of my generation, slipping into tight pants and shirts, showing their pasty stomachs
They walked outside, heads high, shoulders lifted, shooting men mysterious looks, trying to draw attention to their chests, their bras overally padded
Who smiled at every glance they received, bending over a little more, to expose young cleavage
Who craved atttention, but refused to acknowledge when they received it, because they were brought up to be proper and did not want to earn a reputation
Who eventually gained more confidence, and got into cars with strangers to prove that they were grown up, that they were strong
Who were taken advantage of repeatedly because they consented to things they did not want ot do, in the end regretting it but not having the courage to admit that they did
Who promised themselves that what they were doing didn’t matter, because they would never make mistakes that could not be corrected
Who decided to smoke pot, saying that it would never lead to anything more harmful because they were too smart for that
Who eventually tried cocaine, ecstasy, acid, anything to forget all the pressure that authority was forcing upon them
Who started forgetting what was really important, due dates, birthdays, appointments, because their minds only revolved around that one thing,
Who called friends late at night, crying, trying to control themselves, because they felt like they were losing control
Who fell down, after too much to drink, because they did not know when to stop, did not know when they had already had enough
Losing control, losing their dreams, only to gain respect from the people convinced them they were doing the right thing.