I am a different kind of feminine -
an aberration.
A woman, but not in the conventional sense of the word.
Men see me as an anomaly,
irregular, odd.
Physically, I am a woman,
possessing all the biological traits
that make me like other women.
But that is where it stops -
I am peculiar,
(so they say)
I am a far cry from what
men gawk at!
Does that make me less of a woman?
It seems that the external
overshadows the internal
and I am left dumbfounded and perplexed.
I seem to be attracted to men
yet men are repelled by me.
I am intrigued by women,
because of my butch persona -
I seem stronger than when
I am around me
who consider me
un-dainty, clumsy and cocky.
This contradiction
has me swinging back and forth
leaving me in a quandary.
I want to fit in
and yet the elements
are saying otherwise.
Which way do I go?
A capturing read. Could feel the emotion of the write, deep expression.; D
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is how the confessional becomes more than personal - a woman feels her distinct experience, inexpressible traumas of being 'other' are always around. I wish more of such poems are to be written.