“I’m not like other girls,” she said,
as she twirled her short hair round her finger,
“I’m cultured, ambitious, and brave” she said,
ignoring the looks that lingered.
“I’m not like other girls,” she said,
“makeup and high heels belong to barbies,
and I think much more like a man,” she said,
“I’m nothing like those damn harpies.”
“I’m not like other girls,” she said,
“for men are my friends and seldom my foes,
and women are always the same” she said,
“could say I’m unique, I suppose.”
“I’m not like other girls,” she said,
“I’m a feminist, I fight for my rights,
I never put up with bullshit” she said,
“I only wish you'd see the light.”
“I’m not like other girls,” she said,
“I simply don’t care for the things they do,
I don’t know anyone like me,” she said,
“all the rest just don’t have a clue."
“I’m not like other girls,” she said,
“I’m interesting and my beauty is pure,
I lose friends because they're jealous” she said,
deaf to the silence around her.
“I’m not like other girls,” she said,
as if ashamed of being one of us,
and well then, I don't know what else she said,
for she'd already lost my trust.
* Bethany Naylor. I am a writer and translator, originally from Bath but living in beautiful Valencia. I believe in the power of words, the strength of the people and the beauty of art. Apart from my writing, I also paint and make sterling silver jewellery using stones collected on my travels.
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