Cross-dressing Colin

He knows it's wrong, but Colin can't decide,
Whether to be male, or a blushing bride.

He says "It's the fabrics! They're just so soft!"
As he holds the floral material aloft.

Growing up he'd spend weekdays hanging out with the boys,
But on weekends Colin played with his sister's toys.

He's now twenty-five and living alone.
Colin pays his taxes and keeps the lawns mown.

By day he's a gentile, sweet sort of man,
But by night he wears stockings and pees sitting down on the can.

He dresses in wigs, with jewellery and blush.
He does it because it gives him a rush.

Colin knows that deep down, he is a female
And he spends his weekends shopping for headscarves at Bloomingdale's.

Dashing between racks of marked-down cashmere,
Colin is the happiest person on great Earth's sphere.

After purchasing the better half of the store,
Colin picks up his bags and strolls out the door.

Others stare at his pedicured toes
And at the pieces of clothing he eventually chose.

Though slightly confused, Colin is proud,
Of who he is and he says so aloud.

As he barrells down Main Street, purchases in tow,
Colin smiles broadly and his face is aglow.

The billowing fabrics, sequins and lace
Give him a happiness that's hard to replace.

So while Col's a man with the manly bits,
He knows deep inside, he's really a chick.

And once he has the operation, the world will see,
This is one man who is quite happy to sit down to pee.