I used to think being different was being unique,
Outstanding because of some quality that's an exception.
But now it seems to mean acting like a lunatic
Dressed up in such an outrageous pretension.
While there may be some nice silicon charms,
There's still the trace of a deep manly voice,
In long sleeved gown to hide his big man-arms-
Well, that's his life and his 'different' choice.
Though Lies may please and assuage a while
The truth still stands which we can't reject.
A man is a man, however feminine his style-
One cannot just demand what we call respect.
All rights reserved ~~~Cynthia Buhain-Baello~~~07.18.15
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem