She is more than the number of likes her profile picture gets.
She is more than breasts and sex.
She is more than her face.
And her name is not stereotype.
She is made up of words –
Both the said and unsaid.
She is made from the heart of dying stars.
She is made up of ideas
Bigger than most men
Who ask for her number.
She is made up of dreams she relentlessly keeps on chasing.
She is a novel continuously being written in her hand.
She is made up of scars,
Of wounds that are waiting to become scars.
She is made up of rejections and approvals.
She is made up of love and loneliness.
She is made up of skin and bones,
Muscles and nerves.
She is made up of imagination and logic.
She is you;
You, oh you, are bigger than anything
You can ever dream of.