Tom-boy on highness;
she thinks she's a boy.
A self-recreator,
a she-male,
and a nigger-girl she is,
moving all around;
with a pack of boys,
she scrapes her hair,
like a mournful widow,
don't she looks at mirror?
to see how she's bard.
Tom-boy on highness;
she thinks she's a boy.
unsatisfied female,
like a tomb she is,
'I can be a boy' she says,
with her boisterous flips,
she dressed like a boy!
she walks like a boy!
she talks like a boy!
don't she see her kind?
to see how she's lost.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem