A day comes and goes,
Ever swirling on dainty prose,
I rose and I rose,
Until the ground froze,
It was hard when I fell.

A new light shone,
Not a skill to hoan,
Something to bemoan,
It grew cold like stone,
I might have said farewell.

Nothing permanent,
Just a mark of filament,
Just a quirk of decent,
Foul in its ferment,
I wish there was one to tell.

I am not a woman,
Tell that to the men,
To the guy with a pen,
Shout at every christian,
If they believed, I would be well.

I am simply me,
Neither she nor he,
This is my reality,
Like this I am free,
I am not a thing to sell.

I am not a woman,
Hear me well.