Hello little boy, grass-stained knees.
You'll grow up to be a queen,
Called only by the highest gendered words.

Hello little girl, boas and tea parties.
You'll grow up to be a ranger,
Warned not to act like a female.

Are you there, little boy?
Is it still you under the sorrow
Of looking back and seeing a stranger?

Are you there, little girl?
Can you still hear me
Under your cries for help?

Please don't despair.

No, I can't promise that
One day, you'll be you again.

Please don't go.

No, I can't tell you how
Many years you have left like this.

Goodbye little boy, cut up arms.

Goodbye little girl, scissors and band-aids.

You grew up to be a someone,
But you didn't know who.

Growing up is fatal.