See My Soul

It’s not my fault 
Men look at me 
Maybe it used to be 
I lured them in 
Under my own false belief 
That I had to be pretty 
And desirable 
To be worth 
Anything 

But now I have grown 
And I can feel in my bones 
That I’m worth my weight in gold 
That I am worth more 
Than the glee of being told 
That I’m beautiful  
From a guy  
Who isn’t speaking about my soul 

But here I am feeling guilty 
As though I brought it on myself 
Replaying the interactions 
Wondering where I went wrong 
Wondering if I should change 
Stop smiling 
Stop listening  
Stop looking directly in one’s eyes 
Stop being open, friendly and kind 
All of the things that magnetise 
These men to my being 
Yet they’re not seeing 
I don’t mean 
What they want it to mean 

I don’t want to be less 
I want to be me 
I want to be free 
And I shouldn’t have to be 
Less open, friendly and kind 
Sometimes I wish they were blind 
So they could only see my soul 
Instead of what’s under my clothes