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Rated: E · Poetry · Other · #2315622
a Poem of self-reflection
Never a boy was she,
She once was molded to be,
Short hair and a scruff upon her face
But her own rhythm, she found her grace.

What defined a man held no allure,
In the interests of boys, she found no cure,
In the company of girls, she'd dwell,
In ponies and clothes, she'd excel.

Small and tender, her heart did beat,
In a world where authenticity found its seat,
In her truth, she found her way to be.
Never a boy was she.
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