Evolution of me Being a Bitch
The first time a boy called me a bitch for disagreeing with him I cried and decided I should shut up.
The second time I told him I’d been called worse things by better men.
Once in the spring I wouldn’t kiss a boy so I was a bitch, denying him some prerogative, withholding something I owed him— bitch sounded good then.
I told a boy he had a complex and he called me an angry bitch like anger was illegal coming from me, but freedom includes the right to be angry
bitch, resting bitch face, angry bitch, dumb bitch, bitch
like a dog. You know what, fuck that, if refusing to take his word as gospel makes me a bitch, at least let me be that bitch.