My hands are a little too soft
My face a little too smooth
My eyes just a little tooo...... well
Whatever it is about my eyes, my face, and my hands
Some may say that makes me
Not quite a man
Because I don't wild a hammer in one hand
And a beer in the other
I don't sing baritone, I'm tanner
Or maybe soprano.....?  
I don't know for sure

                 Confession
When I was sixteen I was the epitome  of teenage
Goth
Coir
Daddy's little....
Girl?
And I tried hard
To be exactly what people said I was supposed to be
Because I was never told that it was OK to like mud - pies and firetrucks
And throw away my princess barbies and makeup
I felt trapped
Born into a world of horrific stereotype to the maximum degree
And god help me! should I deviate from the 'riches' path of femininity
Lest I be shunned by not only my pears
But some of the people I love the most

           Speaking of which
My dad claims to be a smart man
An observant man
A man who notices people
So, Dad,
Wile you're looking around noticing all of them
How come you cannot spare a glands to see
That the youngest of your three
Is not the princess
You once imagined he'd grow up to be
So either I am the king of deception
The prince of cleverly crafted lies and half truths
Envied
Surpassing the skill and ingenuity of Lucifer himself
Or
You are not so smart as you think you are
And you cannot tell me Dad the you knew all along
Before my ever telling you
To pretend now that you did
Would be the biggest deceit of all
I wonder, oh father of mine,
What is going through your mind
When I step into our 3×3 bathroom in our 25 ft home sporting C ' s
And walk back out not 10 minutes later
Completely
                     Flat
                             Chested.........