Treasure Island

Gracey Newman

(18th April 1992 / Colchester)

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.

Submitted: Friday, October 30, 2009

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

What do you think this poem is about?



Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (Ballads of a drag queen. by Gracey Newman )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  9. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou
  10. A Dream Within A Dream
    Edgar Allan Poe

PoemHunter.com Updates

New Poems

  1. Crescent Moon, Lawrence S. Pertillar
  2. Streetcorner Church, Sharan Strange
  3. Daaaaad! ! ! !, Damian Murphy
  4. Childhood, Sharan Strange
  5. Hunger, Sharan Strange
  6. Sensitivity, Khairul Ahsan
  7. Your shadow!, fareeha ghafoor
  8. Getting Closer, Brandon J. Moore
  9. The Passing Of Days, Lilly Emery
  10. In/and, William Stobb

Poem of the Day

poet Sara Teasdale

Only in sleep I see their faces,
Children I played with when I was a child,
Louise comes back with her brown hair braided,
Annie with ringlets warm and wild.

...... Read complete »

   
[Hata Bildir]