She’s got short hair, like the boys down the block,
Hands in her pockets, keeps her heart under lock.
Looks in the mirror, but the face just won’t talk,
Feels like a stranger walkin’ her walk.

Mum's in the kitchen, smoke in the air,
Shakes her head, "Why you always got that stare?"
She says, "I don’t know, I don’t care, whatever…"
But her voice got sharp, and she didn’t catch it—never.


She don’t know why she’s always this way,
Tryna be quiet but her words betray.
Feelin’ too much or nothin’ at all,
Trips on her thoughts, then stumbles and falls.
She’s a girl, yeah, but they don’t always see,
Not like the others, just tryna be free.


Books on the floor, door slammed shut,
Mama yells loud, "What you hidin’ in that gut?"
Shrugs it off, walks out, feelin’ small,...