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| To Feel Like A Girl | |||||||
| Why can't I feel how a real girl feels? | |||||||
| Why can't I see the world through a real girl's eyes? | |||||||
| Why must I be just one of the guys? | |||||||
| I lie awake in darkness thinking about my life. | |||||||
| I curse my cowardice for denying what's in my heart. | |||||||
| I feel so feminine, but I don't get to dress the part. | |||||||
| Then come the tears, the selfish tears, | |||||||
| Meaningless moisture brought on by self-pity and despair, | |||||||
| But I'm just a guy, I don't get to cry or care. | |||||||
| Conditioned from birth not to be a "sissy" or "fag" | |||||||
| What could be worse than that? | |||||||
| The burden of emotion perhaps? | |||||||
| To cry out with joy, to weep in tragedy. | |||||||
| That's how women react to the world. | |||||||
| In that, I've always felt more like a girl. | |||||||
| Sure I can play dress-up; wigs, heels, and make-up, | |||||||
| But it's just a game for my eyes, make-believe, | |||||||
| A reflection of aspirations that can never be. | |||||||
| So I'm resigned to seek solace in that reality, | |||||||
| To rejoice in the mask of false outer beauty, | |||||||
| And mourn silently for stifled inner beauty. | |||||||
| ~Amber Nicloe Richards~ | |||||||