My mama always said that I was a beautiful baby with brown hair and curious blue eyes
Quiet and obedient as a little boy and studious as a young man in his teens
So different all the other boys in town
Who were always so rowdy filthy and drunk
So I asked her one say when she was busy with her embroidery
Mama is there something wrong with me?
Why am I so different from all the other boys.. In the world?
She looked at me with her blue eyes wide in shock and gave my left ear a great tweak
Why George! Your just perfect
You've got two eyes to see with two ears to hear with, ten fingers and toes to move around and explore with
I sighed... It was useless trying to explain anything to my dear mother
The truth was.. I hated being a boy
Having to cut my hair every couple of days when she wore hers Cosmo get she shoulders
Always stuck wearing dress shirts and pants around the house while got to wear pretty floral dresses and matching pointy shoes
Being told to always do better in school and keep busy by fixing old cars and junk around the house
Yet she was happy baking cakes and pastries,running errands and waiting for daddy to come home with flowers and chocolates
Worst of all, always being told that boys don't cry
But I'm in pain and always so miserable
So why is it so forbidden for me to cry
To shed just a tear or two?