#tomboy
I prided myself in being some what of a tomboy
I didn’t sit in the house painting fingernails playing dress up in granny’s dresses n heels
I was outside getting ***** running in the fields (I got the scars to prove it) I was a girl who played like a boy
Didn’t like dresses or skirts And if you touched or looked at me wrong I would hit you where it hurts and I packed a mean punch
The oldest of the bunch so I had to learn a lot early Didn’t play with dolls cuz it was 2 girly didn’t like my curves so baggy clothes it was hobbies were riding four wheelers, horses, turning dirt into mud
I was a girl who played like a boy
I would fish or watch my grandfather change the oil in his car rather than go play with my friends I always knew I didn’t fit in
A Mulan over Princess Peach
I don’t know how to react when I’m called pretty I'm not a girly girl I'm not the one to open up easily. But you're growing on me And I feel a desire to tell you everything. But I'm afraid that you'll leave, Just like everyone else I've been through too much To wear my heart on my sleeve. I've grown tough My emotions squeezed and confined in this shell I hide I was so unfamiliar with being a woman so life was looked at through a more masculine lens
Always in survival mode I know what it’s like to do hard things I fantasize about what it’s like to be soft
To not worry,
To be calm
to relax my shoulders
unclench my jaw
To let my hair down blow in the wind enjoy the sun beaming off my skin Skin-ful of scars I AM woman both stubborn and wild. But even wild things can be tamed 😌 Not the drama queen I have no need to be seen attention seeking has never been my thing but I want you to see me…. The real me Pass the mask that hides my interior. The passion that hides behind the toughness that’s waiting
to be found. The hopeless romantic who needs a push A sign to know it’s authentic A nudge in the right direction You wit it? I’m a tomboy and I’m not changing I love being comfortable in my skin just want to be something I’ve never been soft, quiet, and pretty
Can you help me? Cuz I’m SCARED
It's just so hard to love again when my heart is so worn out.
I promise I'll try but please forgive me if I have doubts.
Jul 15, 2025
Jul 15, 2025 at 10:42 PM UTC
Baggie pants white T-shirt hair faded on the side they say I’m gay cause I dress like a boy I say it’s just clothes theirs no gender on the tag I wear what I want I like who I am I like my hair my style but I’m not boy they don’t like it they say act like a girl but this is just who I am
Jun 19, 2021
Jun 19, 2021 at 11:30 PM UTC
I cannot dress up my truths
in designer clothes
that'll grab your attention
and invite a closer look
I cannot apply even a little concealer
or blush to its cheeks
or add colour to its lips
I will not conceal any of it
not its blemishes and scars
not the pimples and acne
the most revealing bits
truth's a tomboy anyway
Apr 13, 2020
Apr 13, 2020 at 4:07 AM UTC
I loved climbing trees
I use to play with the other boys in the street
Street cricket was such a treat
I would lick 6, over the neighbors yard
loud and boisterous, as the other boys
No one said anything they accepted me as a boy
I was never confused, my ego was never bruised
As I grew, I met the girl I never knew
She took over, and now he has the best view
he's not buried, we live in mutual symbiosis
escaping this worlds unjust definition of my psychosis
May 2, 2019
May 2, 2019 at 11:52 AM UTC
I love all of my family
As I always have since birth
Problem is my family has
And may always see me as a Girl
My mom remembers fondly
How I used to love dressing up in pink
But now it seems to bother me,
Like my voice, when I think and speak
I’ve always been a tomBoy
In very single fond memory
I’ve hated being Sister, Small, a Girl, or Mallory
Why can’t it leave Me be
So please, I’m not your Daughter, not one of your Ladies, Sis or Girlfriend
I’m not trying to **** your loved one
Just trying to help you recognize Him
Feb 23, 2019
Feb 23, 2019 at 11:30 AM UTC
rockin flannels and hoodies in mid summer,
hair long, attitude sharp,
makeup? get that out of my face,
dresses ain't for me,
shorts and tops are my key,
while i may be strange,
out of the blue,
seem like one of the guys you would meet on a sport team,
not really,
what do you call something like me?
i'm a tomboy~
May 1, 2018
May 1, 2018 at 11:54 PM UTC
Scraped up knees
And muddy boots;
Denim overalls
And the bow she shoots.
She’s known for climbing trees
And running loose;
Facing adventure with ease,
And putting her imagination to good use.
A little girl in a Big Boy’s world,
She always knew she didn’t fit in.
Trying to be like other girls felt like wearing somebody else’s skin.
She’d tried donning dresses, tried keeping her hair softly curled,
But felt much more comfortable as a cowboy with a bottle of gin,
Or as Bilbo Baggins’ long-lost twin.
Daddy never called her “Princess”,
Never referred to her as “Doll”.
Not because He saw her as anything less–
Because He knew she wouldn’t like that at all!
She’d never been your typical “Damsel in Distress”,
Never needed a Prince to climb any tower wall.
There was never a Knight in Shining Armor who could impress–
She’d leap from the tower herself, even if it meant a painful fall!
“Princesses don’t see enough action,”
She always would insist,
“They’re prissy and boring and helpless,
And always waiting around to be kissed!
I need adventure and excitement to be my distraction.
What others think, I couldn’t care less;
I don’t need a man in order to exist!”
Daddy always knew she wasn’t like the other girls,
But that she was happy with who she was.
He never saw her differences
As any sort of flaws.
Never would he exchange her boots and flannels
For the typical lace and pearls.
She was wonderfully perfect;
Her quirks never gave Him pause.
In fact, He loved them,
Celebrating them with boisterous and adoring applause.
She would much rather be a Pirate Captain,
Sailing the seven seas,
Than a maiden dressed in satin
Who startles at the sound of a sneeze.
Her heart was that of an Elven Warrior,
Renowned for her bravery and strength.
Unlike a princess who balked in horror
When faced with a difficulty of any length.
She was made to be a Viking Hero
Who helped save her country at war,
Not a foolish damsel whose experience is zero,
And who faints at the thought of gore.
A Superhero who battles against evil
And rescues this world from certain doom
Was much more appealing than a ballerina regal
Who sits waiting for her groom.
Even a Jedi Knight who dies in battle
Was a much better fate
Than that of the Queen of a castle
Who never steps beyond her front gate.
A zombie slayer, a vampire hunter–
That’s who she was, and wanted to be!
A princess’ average luxury and luster
Didn’t fit her adventurous fantasy.
She was a unique treasure, something rarely found,
And to be clumped in with all the rest would be to see her spirit bound.
The only Princess she’d ever been
Was a Space Princess who could hold her own.
Pink was never a color she’d be willingly caught in,
And she refused to become just another “basic girl” clone.
Daddy loved her different, and held her differently.
He wanted her to know that she was cherished,
And that He was always listening intently.
He would never call her “Princess”,
For she’d feel her dreams had perished,
So instead He called her “Captain”,
Speaking to her ever-so gently.
If she wanted to be a Pirate,
She knew she was free to be.
If today she chose the life of a Paladin,
She always knew her Daddy would see.
If she desired to become a zombie-fighting tyrant,
Daddy asked if he could join her team.
He’d help her train as a bow-wielding assassin,
And push her to be the best that she could be.
He would never change her
Or make her into something she was not.
He would meet her where she was,
And by His example, she was always taught
To be comfortable with who she was, and to always be sure
That what she did was done with excellence,
And to give everything honest thought,
So the battles she fought were always for the highest cause.
Mar 13, 2018
Mar 13, 2018 at 8:47 PM UTC
One time when I was on acid
I climbed to the top of a mountain
And mimicked the trees
Danced in the breeze
Colors pulsing from the roots to the leaves
Everything breathes
Has a purpose to be
A choir of soft voices
Whispers inaudibly
The hums are enough to comfort me
They keep me warm on this balcony
Bird's eye witness to the souls of the young
The jovial
The sprung
fighting for fun
They entertain me
But like all pups
still in training
They sleep too long, play too much,
Bite too hard, drink too much
Can I join the club?
Nov 20, 2017
Nov 20, 2017 at 12:14 PM UTC
I remember the first time
that I was called pretty.
I was eight years old.
I remember feeling
a bubble of insecurity
hover around me,
like an ant
under a microscope.
At eight years old,
I had experienced
my very first wave
of expectations of women
in a male dominated society.
I had no idea
that would be the first
of many by the time
I reached womanhood.
I was just a child.
I loved playing in the dirt,
and capturing bull frogs.
I was a girl
who played like a boy.
I never thought I was pretty,
not because I had
low self esteem,
but because
I was eight years old.
I was to young
to have pretty
wrapped up in my identity.
Fast forward
eight more years.
I am sixteen now.
I am no longer
playing in the dirt,
or capturing bull frogs.
I am painting my nails
bright pink,
and dying my hair
every two weeks.
I am trying to be pretty.
I am no longer
feeling the bubble of insecurity.
I am living in it
twenty four seven.
I am always concerned
with how I look,
how I act,
and what I say.
I am a girl
who is no longer a tomboy.
I am just a girl.
I no longer know
who I am,
because I am
not allowed
to be who I am.
I am expected
to sit quietly
in the corner,
straightening my hair,
perfecting my makeup,
so that a boy
who loves my body
can tell me he loves me,
and make me his wife.
Fast forward
4 more years.
I am twenty now.
I am numb
to the insecurity.
I am now expected
to live in a suburb,
raise three kids,
clean the house,
love my husband,
and my white picket fence.
I am just another girl
who is seen as pretty.
I am living a lifeless life.
I am at a crossroads
to either stay down
under the weight
of societies expectations,
or burn my picket fence
right down to the ground.
I am remembering
that tomboy I was
before I was called pretty.
I can either reconnect
with her fierceness,
or hide beyond a mask
of beige concealer.
I can either be a dove,
or I can be a phoenix.
I think
the choice is obvious.
Mar 29, 2017
Mar 29, 2017 at 2:38 AM UTC
When I was a small child
I was no lady fair and mild
I was the princess of the wild
As by tree climbing I was beguiled
I didn't like pink princess sets
Sports were something I couldn't get
I climbed everywhere, even playgrounds that were wet
And I loved proving kids wrong on a bet
As I grew into the girl I became
Some things changed, some stayed the same
I love all sorts of clothes, made for both gents and dames
And my boyish reaction to crushes is still my bane
Jan 20, 2017
Jan 20, 2017 at 1:16 PM UTC
You put me in your hair,
twirl me with your fingers
the wind blows me here to there
so you put me on your sneakers.
I'm purple and pink, perfect punk'
upon your forest, atop tree trunk
I always am with you when you leave
and run around the school house trees.
We'll forever remember the rushing air
but we must have lost balance and crashed
the warmth and sun that glinted isn't there
but still get up again, it's time for class!
Aug 1, 2015
Aug 1, 2015 at 10:40 AM UTC
Hoyden
Perched in a tree
high aloft her mystic mountain
a hoyden sits
wrenching daisies from her hair
She cackles as they cascade
down to earth
Fluttering in a last attempt to fly
The last recognizes defeat,
alighting on the forest floor
She bursts from her throne
crashing atop the petals she’s discarded
Whooping, she stands,
brushes off her dirt covered skirt
Some day, I will be free
Nov 10, 2014
Nov 10, 2014 at 4:29 AM UTC
My perfect guy
Is the kind of boy
Who is always a gentleman
He opens doors, pulls out chairs
And is polite to my parents
And yet when he wants
He can be so hilariously fun
He's not afraid to wrestle
Or play games, even have a nerd fight
But when the day is done
We can sit and talk for hours
He listens to every word
And says more than "okay"
He will smile and act intelligent
Helping with my problems
But he's not too serious
To put up with my insanity
My perfect guy
Is the kind of boy
Who is always there for me
I will never feel shy or scared
In his protective hold
He will back me up
Even if I'm wrong
And when we sit together
He will wrap his arms around me
And sit tight and perfect
And he is always there for me
When is about emotions too
He will be my steady rock
To comfort if I cry
He always try's to make it better
No matter what is wrong
My perfect guy
Is the kind of boy
Who is thinking of me
He pulls special surprises
With flowers and romance
He never forgets a special day
But he's not the kind of guy
Who is crazy about anniversaries
He might give a gift once a year
To keep it real special
He plans dates
And makes special days
Just for the two of us
And while he keeps them
Perfectly romantic he lets them
Have fun too.
My perfect guy
Is the kind of boy
Who compliments me now and then
Even if he doesn't mean it
Just to make me feel nice
But he isn't all worried about beauty
He notices me for me
And isn't afraid to joke around
And say what's on his mind
My perfect guy
Is the kind of boy
Who likes the things I like
The kind of guy who
Shares my dreams
And relishes in the insanity
He wants to make the impossible come true
Without forgetting about now
He will think about the Future
While we banter with each other
My perfect guy
Is the kind of boy
Who doesn't see me as just his girl
He is protective and strong
Yet easy going too
He isn't afraid to get *****
To roll around in the mud
He is always up for a game
Of road hockey or paintball
He will play video games
And sports
Without going easy
He will keep things fun
And won't cry about losing to a girl.
My perfect guy
Is the kind of boy
Who gets along with friends
Who is always charming to new people
And who my friends like back
The kind of guy who
Gets along with a group
Yet doesn't mind to be alone
My perfect guy
Is the kind of boy
Who I write this incredibly long poem about
He is the kind of guy who is perfect in my eyes
He is the kind of guy who likely doesn't exist
Nov 1, 2014
Nov 1, 2014 at 7:36 PM UTC
To everyone here
Mulan might be just another fictional Disney character
Just a fraction of someone's imagination
To you
She might just be an eighty minute entertainment on your screens
Just a childhood memory
that is slowly
and gradually
fading
But to me
To me she's more than that
You see
Growing up, I didn't have anyone that could teach me things
And I don't mean in sense of school subjects
I didn't have anyone that gave me confident about myself
So I took lessons from everyone and everything
Mulan taught me that I can be a girl and not have pink as my favorite color
Mulan taught me that I can be a girl but not wear and love makeup, dresses and high heels
Mulan taught me that it is okay to love and be good at things that were originally meant for boys
Mulan taught me how I can be comfortable in my skin
Mulan taught me that it is okay to not be a typical girl
and still have my happily ever after fairytale
Mulan taught me that it is okay,
that it is enough to just be
me
Aug 4, 2014
Aug 4, 2014 at 6:18 AM UTC
I will not show it
Just yet
It is not ready
To be framed
Just yet
A work in progress
It is still a mess
She is fast
She peeks at it
Beams
And holds it
It is perfect as it is
Unnecessary to polish it
Because
It is already
Beautifully completed
Right now,
Unfinished.
May 18, 2014
May 18, 2014 at 5:01 AM UTC