Ballads Of A Drag Queen. Poem by Gracey Newman

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.