Quiet and docile child,
Holder of beauty and grace,
Never thought she'd be
Such a disgrace
Her mother says,
"Why are you not
dressing feminine?
Getting ready for your life
As a lovely housewife?
Women are quiet,
Do what they're told
Don't fight back or argue,
Don't spit or hate."
She's always up late,
hates dresses and makeup
And doesn't care what anyone thinks
She goes on in life,
and at maybe 14,
She starts to feel wrong
Like her body isn't for her,
Like she doesn't belong
Not in this skin,
not in these clothes
She looks in the mirror
And hates how she looks
Her face too dainty
And her hair too long
So she takes some scissors,
measuring just right
Before snipping off brown locks
Left and right
Hair falls to the ground,
littering the pink carpet
She looks in the mirror
And thinks, "Much better."
A few months later,
She has thought some more
And decides that she
Doesn't want to be "she" anymore
So he changes his name,
takes on a new look
Sports band t-shirts and baggy jeans
With hats to hide his hair,
Which needs a trim
He feels much more confident,
Comfortable in his own skin
But can't help but think,
"What would Mom say?"
So he hides it from her,
Keeps his identity in the shadows
And accepts gifts of ribbons and pearls
With a shallow smile
A few years later,
It's impossible to hide
He feels amazing now,
But still is afraid
Of what his mom will think,
How she might react
If she'll say, "Get out of my house!"
or, "Pack your bags!"
He can't wait to be 18,
Get rid of the rest
And finally live carefree
But he can't help but crave
That approval and love,
The acceptance he'd get
From his mom telling him,
"I wanted a son anyways
You are good enough."