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.