You've always told me I can come to you about anything
And you promised me that you've probably been through the same
But I find it hard to believe that you feel the same as me
To feel wrong, to feel misunderstood
I'm sure you have, but not like me
To be something you never wanted to be
To be the boy in the mirror, looking back at this little girl
So innocent and so sweet
From basketball short, to skateboards and cars
I don't want a doll or a tea set, curls in my hair
I want a mohawk, a bike, a deep voice and muscles
I want to be a man, not on the outside but what my soul really is
I want to be me
I want to be sir, him, he
Not miss ma'am or she
The sound of the feminine pronouns make me clench my teeth to hear words that don't describe me
Have you been through the same?
Probably not
But do you understand?
I hope so, I'm tired of hiding who I am.
