When I was born they found out I was a girl and set about filing my fangs.

They told me to eat mush, close my legs, and play nicely.

They gave me a dress and shoes that hurt

And said Beauty is Pain.

Smile, they said, and called me Good Girl when I did.

I believed them for a while.

I fixed my hair in a perfect coif

Kept my teeth straight and dull

Ate the gruel they fed me.

In the mirror, I saw the

Stepford wife I’d become Hated

her flowery smell

Her easy manner Her metallic taste.

So I filed each tooth Till they could tear the flesh Of a peach I dared to eat.

At midnight I roared at the moon In sparkly high heels and a short dress.

When someone approached I didn’t like I snapped and clanked my teeth till they coward away.

I keep my teeth sharp Like my razor tongue

That speaks my mind

Without remorse.

I keep them sharp

So that I can bite off more than I can chew.

So that I can bring pleasure and pain

Sometimes the same.

I bite because the world told me I was only good for nibbling.
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Editor: Renée Picard

Photos: Valentia Volavia at Flickr