I have a soul-patch that sticks to my chin
and lingers just below the rim of my lip.
I slip on a shirt that makes me look too thin
and strap down my chest and hide my wide hip.
I slip on bandanas to hide my long hair
and pull out my bangs in front of my face
then I step outside into the crisp morning air,
say a good morning to the whole human race.

Yes, it is true; I dress as a male
and I may not be tall or I may not be cute
but my voice and actions are equally frail
because my current affliction doth render me mute.
I'm tired of listening to my mother's complaints
and my father, he'll never know
that I feel as strongly as God does to saints
that the boy in me thrives and yet grows.

I'm tired of feminine, it isn't any fun.
We don't get to play the games that you do.
I'm not going to listen to anyone
who says that I should dress as I'm supposed to.
I won't be harassed and I won't be ignored
for my current state cannot hide
that inside of me, the feelings explored
I have some masculine pride.