"I Hope I Never Have a Daughter" by Kendall A. Bell
 

I hope I never have a daughter

so that she doesn't have to have her
long red hair pulled by some stupid
boy who will make fun of her and tell
her that she has no soul. I hope I
never have a daughter that looks 
anything like me, that has star cluster
freckles over her shoulders and arms, 
like me, that carries the weight of
melancholy like a pocket full of stones
that she has swiped from the edges of
curbs and along train tracks. I hope I
never have a daughter who scrapes used
razors over her wrists to feel something
other than emptiness and nausea in her
gut. I hope I never have a daughter who
wakes up behind a dumpster, on a strange
carpet with dried vomit on her face and
clothes, who doesn't know why she aches
everywhere, who gives too much of herself
until there is nothing left for her to do but
find every pill in the house and use them
to quiet all of the noise. I hope I never
have a daughter who has to carve pieces
of herself off in front of mirrors, who
slowly disappears as soon as she blends in.
I hope I never have a daughter—
this world doesn't fucking deserve her.