Pixelated Prince

Have you ever been underestimated by someone who thinks they can measure you by their own limited standards? This poem takes aim at those who reduce people to labels, stereotypes, and numbers. It’s a declaration of breaking free from their narrow definitions and stepping into your own power, as you reclaim your narrative.

I’m done playing by your tired old rules,
Go ahead, dip your pen in ink pots of dolls.
Hide your random wealth in cryptos and shells,
Your game’s just as shallow as the lies you tell.

I make and break my own damn image,
No labels are needed to pen my lineage.
They shift with every word I speak,
From prayers whispered to nights dressed chic.

Oh, you flaunt, taunt, and rate me like a show,
Boosting some TRP—but who even knows?
While you brag about code and your so-called might,
Acting like God’s gift to JavaScript nights.

Stick to your numbers, your screens, and your tests,
Your zeros and ones—there, you’re the best.
But out here, in the world of flesh and soul,
You couldn’t even begin to play the role.

A real woman isn’t pixels for your mind to tweak,
She is a storm, galaxy—fierce, unique.
So take your bravado, your brag, and your jokes,
And shove them right where your WiFi chokes.

Because while you’re lost in your glowing abyss,
I’m out here reclaiming all that you missed.
Power, grace, fire—my story’s begun,
And trust me, darling, I’m the real one.

Do you let others define you by their own rules, their standards, their screens? Or do you rise above, showing the world who you truly are—fierce, unique, and unapologetically yourself? How do you reclaim your power when the world tries to shrink you to fit into their boxes?