(Dedicated to all women stronger than they think they are.)
Where should I wear it this time?
Stigma on a golden chain
Too brown, white, or green
I’m not a ‘he’ I’m a ‘she’
So I hate being me
Degrees of hate
Equality hurts when it comes from a fist
Tell me; why should it be exactly like this?
Varieties of stigma painted on a face
If it breaks it obeys
Sweetly wear it, so stylish when put in place
It’s a brilliant hue, the he’s likes it black and blue
Take your best swing at the punch line doing a man’s job
But you know she sells well covering that magazine
Suicide is for people too different for life
So I beg to leave, God the father let me be
Why should I be if I can’t be anything else but me?
Inventing excuses to stay
How often must I try
Too often, my eyes are dry
God, great father, you know I tried and tried
But now I’m inventing just another
And you know I’m running out of reasons to lie
To myself, it keeps on going
And God, glorious father, you know trust is an issue
With me, because I can’t keep believing in misuse
What who tells me, promises sound sweet
And God, oh patriarch, I’m no saint but I do believe
I endure and abuse
Myself if I flirt with another excuse
To stay and not go, insofar it’s an art
Till death do us part
Dearly discarded who knows what I’ll miss
If I don’t come up with one more to comfort myself with
So how, exactly, would you like me to wear it this time?
That stigma across my face
