Under those socks is a chest,
not the size you want, but real.
Under your skin is a heart,
one that you wish you couldn't feel.
So uncomfortable in your own skin,
so ashamed of your born identity.
You're wishing it weren't you within,
screaming "I wish I wasn't me!"
You dress up and make-up your face;
you could never show this side,
because that would make you a disgrace,
so this part of you, you must hide.
Pull up your skirt, shave your legs,
put on your hair, your make-up;
your true identity.
And one day, you'll get the guts.
Today it's just for fun,
but one day you'll be free,
you'll get to walk and talk,
you'll get to be the real you.
You may be a man to them,
but you'll always be a woman to me.
(I love everything about you.)
