In a mental world
where all I need is to
be a man,

I’m told to be this woman.

Shave your legs,
make your voice high,
wear the flower perfume,

not the men’s cologne.

Let your hair grow out,
keep your name,
don’t build your muscles.

You don’t look right.

You’re my daughter,
not my son.
You will not be an “other,”

you shouldn’t be masculine.

It’s a reminder
of the world we live in;
one where you can be yourself

if you fall into the right box.

The right clothes,
the right hair,
the right materials,

the right parts.

Let me out;
get this monster released
so I can be myself

a self-made man to be.

A self-made man
without a care in the world.
A self-made man

wanting to be known.