“Why can’t you be a cute lesbian?”

Mom asks,

staring up at me while she lays in bed.

“Why do you have to be butch?”

 

Do you not get I was made this way?

It’s not a form of expression.

It’s not just another stage.

I can’t change who I am.

I wouldn’t want to.

 

I’m now just coming to terms

with who I am.

Why can’t you accept it?

I can’t be the daughter you wanted.

Let’s be honest here,

 

I wear boxers and chains.

Oversized guy watches and athletic shorts.

Flat bills and snapbacks are my style.

I’m nowhere near purses and clutches,

Dresses and Heels,

Skirts and lipstick are not for me.

 

I’m sorry I can’t be what you want.

But please,

accept me for me.

It hurts so much just to admit,

But I know who I am.

 

If you can’t accept that,

I’m sorry.

You’ll be missing out

And I’ll be missing you.

 

If you want me,

take me as I am.

I’m not going to fit

your mold of the perfect

girlie, feminine, daughter.

I never will.

 

I really am sorry.

But I can’t change who I am.