Little Girls

The little girl stands on a knife-covered ledge, 
Dancing till blood starts to drip from its edge.
She's been licking her wounds since the first time she bled, 
Getting judged for each thought she commits in her head. 
She's been starving herself since she started to eat, 
Connecting the dots of her heart's every beat.
She's been swimming from fishermen hiding their net,
And running from wolves that deny they're a threat.

And the men chime in, 'Silence girl, don't make a fuss, 
I'd never do this, it's not all of us.'
To drown out her sorrow, the male chorus sings, 
'It's only a few, you're imagining things.
You're making this issue seem worse than it is; 
It was only a comment, a gesture, a kiss.
It was meant as a compliment - please take a joke, 
Don't bite the hand groping you, savour each poke.' 
And the girl learns the axis on which the world spins 
Is powered by people who relish their sins.
So, she keeps her head down and she learns how to live, 
To be quiet and not take much more than they give. 
Cause the fragile knife edge she must constantly walk
Dictates every word she's permitted to talk,
Each mouthful is measured, each glance not too sly, 
Lest she melt off her wings just from touching the sky. 
And she'd love to exist as the person she knows 
Lives inside of her mind, but her agony grows.

As she slowly but surely resigns herself to 
Being smaller and using far less than they do, 
Being meeker and not taking up too much space, 
Being careful to always remember her place. 
But the little girl vows that the curse will be broken, 
She'll break down the barriers, leave them wide open: 
For the daughters of little girls you wouldn't hear; 
For the children of women you silenced with fear;
For our mothers we'll sing till the screams rip the air; 
We are the little girls you couldn't scare.