So many things
Like, little tiny things, and big things.
Beards, shirts, hobbies, interests,
Promotions, relationships, property ect.
It’s the little things that get me the most.
I’ve been treated like a lady my whole life, so
I guess I’m extremely aware
of the differences.
That’s what seems to make the most sense,
To me, right now.
Women are not so nice, to each other.
In my experience.
I have never minded, I love women and
I don’t think I am one.
I break guitars and fart whole melodies,
So when they made fun of me and
Played mean pranks on me I always just
Went along, hoping to catch a glimpse
Somebody’s tit. Right.
That’s bad. I’m not supposed to say that.
I guess I’m supposed to pretend like I wasn’t
Going through puberty surrounded by the sex
I really desperately wanted to play with.
It makes me a predator, to admit–
But they already knew, otherwise
they would’ve gone along with it.
Oh well. What was this poem about?
And the shit for which they blow each other.
Women don’t have the same mini game
Pre-loaded in our consoles.
The sexes have their own protocol,
They say there is balance, but I don’t know.
Men seem to get way more out of brotherhood
Than sisters get from sisterhood.
Depending on who you ask,
“It’s the opposite!”
I disagree, I have not benefited
From either of the sexes.
Maybe everyone feels the same,
But the shit I’ve heard men say
To one another about each other
Makes me wonder what I’ve been missing
While I’ve been addressing my gender
and redressing my sex.
I guess, what I’m really mad about
At the end of this identical day,
Is the emptiness I feel, being between–
A third-party candidate, stealing votes
From a more deserving cause.
Also I just wish someone, on either side
Would say that my chick-beard was hot.
Legit nobody ever compliments a woman on her beard
and means it!
Fucking trash, all of you,
the whole lot.