Ballads of a drag queen.
I wake up not knowing who I am.
waiting for my mother to leave so I can go looking through her wardrobe to find something in a size 12. Was this only made for girls?
My dad took me to see a phycologist. They called it a phase and said I wasnt a real man.
But I said don''t knock it till you''ve tried it.
So I came clean in a dirty dress. My mother cries as I put her make up on.
The words I speak arnt weapons in which I destroy you with because I don''t feel right till I am clean shaven and beautiful. I need my fix of fake tan and proxide.
This is who I am. My words are not weapons they are sheilds. I came clean in a drty dress.
I came clean with no regret.
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Comments about this poem (Ballads of a drag queen. by Gracey Newman )
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