Poetry

To be a boy

Her fingers dance through her hair
and they twirl around
After a minute, the hair has been bound

She tugs her hair forward;
fashioning some bangs
She smiles.
She stops.
Then does it again.

She opened her wardrobe
To find some masc clothes
She pulls out a flannel
(she has plenty of those)

She goes back to the mirror
and pretends that she's a boy.
And for a moment she is filled with joy.

"He" smiles as "he" runs "his" fingers through "his" hair
And pretends that "his" ponytail isn't really there.
"He" looks in the mirror
and comes to see
That this is all just "his" fantasy.

She snaps out of her trance,
She'll never be like them,
Like those boys who are boys
and will grow into men.

She doesn't know where she stands.
"She"?
"He"?
Or maybe "Them"?

Feeling too feminine to be a guy
Too masc to be a girl
All these feeling make her want to hurl.

She cries all alone
Then hears a buzz from her phone

She is told she doesn't look like a
"She"
or a
"He"
but more like a "them"

The girl smiles
She thinks that she's happy to be a girl
She pulls out the bobbin, freeing her curls

The girl is now filled with joy
But sometimes she'll still wonder
How it would feel
If she were a boy