I can still feel it-
the pang, sometimes takes me back.
The way it was just so effortlessly persuaded.
The way nobody questioned it, not one single person.
Well not to my face. at least. or theirs.
How can someone with so much goodness,
tear another’s life apart so seamlessly?
That’s real jealousy.
Like a hissy fit, once thrown in a store
over the things, parents have to say-
like the big N-O.
Little girls do not grow up to be dolls,
little girls do not grow up to become their own barbies,
girls do not become women, not quite yet-
until they’ve faced their own jealousy, their own darkness-
the self-righteousness of the soul, the ego, the id.
Jealousy is only the natural reaction to the word NO,
you can’t have it,
it’s not yours,
we can’t bend every rule-
not for your whole life dear.
Jealousy is the mask, of the girl, who always has a new doll.
The girl who never had to accept no,
and now cannot overcome no either.
It is deep down, the fear-
the slow building of resentment,
the quick growing panic-
the world will not bend to her will anymore.