Two tulips, two tulips.
The two tulips love each other. And they both love tulips.
The two tulips hold hands. People cry, people scream.
The Two are split up.
2 tulips become 1 tulip, and another tulip.
A tulip, forced to marry a rose. The rose didn’t have a tulip.
The rose only had a Rose.
“A tulip and a rose is the way to go.” People shouted through out the streets.
Tulips and Roses. Women and Men.

You don’t put on makeup you are a boy.
You don’t wear high heels you are a boy.
You can’t walk like that you are a boy.
Take off that nail polish, that is for girls.
Go out for football, or soccer, or baseball or something.
You need to do something manly.
If you don’t do anything manly then what are you doing here?
If I catch you putting on makeup again, then you are gone, you are out of this house, I will not have a gay son in my house.
What made you decide to be this way, I have always taught you the way of being a man, don’t stand a certain way.
Go out with a girl I have never seen you with a girlfriend.
When you get a wife you will respect her, treat her with kindness.
What if I want a boyfriend? Then you are no son of mine.
you will not get your hair dyed. You will not be a faggot under my roof, your mom allowed that stuff to go on, not me I will not stand for this.
You either straighten up and find a girlfriend or you will be put on the street, with no one to care for you, no one to help you, or until you come to your senses and come crawling back to ask for my forgiveness.
I will never forgive you.
I will never come crawling back like a dog begging for food.
I am who I am if you can’t accept that then you are no father.
I will not sit here and let you drag me down, downgrade me to nothing, and tell me how to live my life.
Telling me I have to do sports, telling me I have to love a girl to be a  guy.
Telling me that I am not your son if I don’t stand a certain way or walk with a little swag or manly walk.
I am still a man if I love another man.
I am still a man if I wear lipstick or lipgloss.
I am still a man if I am in touch with my feminine side.
I am still a man if I try on my mother’s clothes because I miss her and hate her for leaving me with a homophobic, pathetic excuse for a father.
I am me and if you want to throw me out, then throw me out, just know I will not be alone because unlike you I have friends that support and love who I am.
I have friends that will care for me and will not let me rot on the side of the street.
ARE YOU A BOY! Society wants you to stray in the shadow of a man.
They do not want you to be your own person, they despise that.
Now I’m not saying all of society is like this, but there is still part of society that is like this.
Do not be the person society wants you to be, do not be the equivalent of the man they want you to be. Be yourself, be your own man, be you.

Don’t worry if it is the end.
Even if it is the last time we
ever see each other.
I promise I’ll meet you
at the gates when you get
dropped off.
I’ll pick you up.
Spin you around.
Kiss you until my lips
ache.
My love,
my life is ending,
but I promise that
in the end
Your smile
Is all I need.

Your eyes, golden brown
Soft, delicate fingers brushing a single curl
Against my cold face
"body heat helps frostbite,"
You tell me
And you lick your lips knowing
I am unconditionally doomed
In our paracosm you would be my wife
Bound by our losses and found by each other
In the unlit room, you're mine for just the hour
And maybe that's enough.

I am more than my shoes,
Even the brown brogues I wear
Day in day out to work and which
Are rubbed smooth on the soles.

I am more than the cheap-end shirts
That hide my breasts and that you
Frown at, openly, at the shop, the park,
On the bus after a long day.

I am more than the number zero
That you can see, and the underwear
That you can’t, although that
Doesn’t stop you asking.

I am tough or tender, depending
On who we are and what you mean to say.
I am hard in places you have no need of,
And soft in those you don’t think I know.

I am butch, and I have blended every
Ill word, and unkind glance into the step
Of my swagger and the spread of my legs,
And the pride I put into loving my woman.

I am butch; I wear it on my sleeves,
And my calloused hands. The word is sewn
Into the hem every pair of jeans I own,
As it is on the inside of my thick skin.

Todays the day
The day where I have to fake being myself
Because all I wanna be is not acceptable
I look like a girl
But don’t wanna be
Society makes me feel incomplete
With the way everyone hates on each other
Makes me feel depressed
Because I could never be the way society wants me to be.
Now when I say I don’t wanna be a girl
The thing is I don’t wanna be a boy either
I just wanna be ‘Rebecca’
Thats all I wish to be
Because in my eyes I don’t have to be one
People tell you
“You can be anything you want to be”
But when we change ourselves
By cutting our hair and changing our clothes
It becomes unacceptable
It’s really their fault for putting it in our brains
Because the thing I hate about being a girl is,
Society thinks they can treat us like crap,
That we have to have a gap between our legs,
That we have to be skinny, not chunky,
That we have to have perfect hair
Perfect Makeup
But im sorry Im not what you want me to be
Im sorry that im not ‘acceptable’
But its the same thing for boys
They are expected to have abs,
To be skinny,
To be a ‘jock’
But we are all just people in the end
I just wanna be me,
Because everyone seems to expect me to be perfect.
But im not so you all are going to have to deal with it.
So here we are
Right here,
Right now
Take a deep breath my child
Become the person you want to be
Be yourself
For I have given up on that
Become what I could never be
Because what society expects us to be
Doesn’t really matter
Just be who you wanna be

~R.S~