I am a vending machine.

I dispense a variety of “sweets”.

Girls are seen as vending machines.

See, we are only seen as valuable when we give you what you are craving.

People expect to give us money and get something in return.

I am tired of having my buttons pushed.

I am tired of being kicked when I “go to slow”.

I am only seen as valuable when I am fully stocked.

And by stocked I mean vulnerable.

I mean when I am desperate.

But when I am empty, I go unnoticed.

The treats that are inside of me have been stocked by years of men telling me what I need to have inside of me. What people want.

I am hit when I am broken.

They think that the more they hit, the faster I will go.

They try to get there money back when I give them the wrong kind of “treat”.

I am not a vending machine anymore.

Today I choose who comes in and what i dispense.

Today, I place an out of order sign on me. On my body.

Not meaning that I am broken.

But meaning that I will refuse service.