The hearts and minds of boys are Not For Sale.
I take up that very same gatekeeping mantle.
I promised myself long ago, if I could not
be a girl, I would be a Prince,
and if not a Prince, a
king.
With a lower case k, for I, despite noble
heritage - I am base.
Bastard born, bastard bred - what a shame.
What a stain. On an otherwise, "Good Name".
- who lets the bastards of court eat with the Royals?! - they sneer and say.
I DO.
Little St. Therese says so.
I SAY.
She's the boss in these Church Yards.
And she is my Patron Saint.
And she, she anointed me king.
+ I will not forget my Place.
YOU ARE READING
ANTHOLOGY : THE GRIPPY SOCK HOTEL
PoesíaI got trapped in a mental health facility *who I will be suing, btw* Because they intentionally overdosed me on day 10 of my stay, to force a day eleven. They didn't count on me being smarter, and willing to bide my time, and wait. Anyway, this is...
