I poop. I have hair everywhere.
Above my lips and below them.
I have hair in places you always thought had none.
I have hair in places you want to visit, check out.
I have eyebrows that are shaped every three weeks
to look like a curve, a road, a neat path
so that you don’t feel lost when you see me.
I also pee. Sometimes I fart.
I sneeze, more than a quiet sound, and then things come out of my nose.
I love laughing out loud even if I sound like a witch.
My eyes are not always full of kohl.
Sometimes my lips have more than a coat of gloss,
They have anger, and bitter words.
Sometimes, I cry. I’m not always happy and smiling.
There are nights when under the sheets
my hands slip into my underwear,
Some days my shoulders hunch, I don’t always walk straight
And I like to sit with my legs wide open.
Once every month, I menstruate for four days
There’s blood, it’s thick and red and dark
And it hurts, and it flows continuously,
Also, my clothes hide it well,
but I have a tummy and marks and scars
from childhood games.
Every day you expect me to hide who I am
So that I can become an image you can idolize
an object too perfect.
But, when you cut me, I bleed.