Real Boy

If I were a real boy, I'd finally look cute. In skirts and bows, ties and suits, and everything else too. People wouldn't stop and stare, they wouldn't point and laugh. And if I were a real boy, "Ma'am" could take a nap. If I were a real boy, by songs would sound nice. Instead of being sung by someone with the wrong voice. If I were a real boy, I wouldn't always cry. I wouldn't hate my body. I wouldn't want to die. My pieces would all fit together. Not a brick out of place. instead of this prison of peices, all from the wrong puzzle games. If I were a real boy, maybe people wouldn't hate me. Maybe schoolmates would be kinder, Maybe even my own mother. But they say I'm not a real boy, so why should I even try?! Why do I even try to pass? Why do I even try to hide? To hide my broken pieces! To hide my acheing heart! I'll rip out my insides, drag a knife across my chest. I'll never be a real boy, so why should I even jest? Because I'll never be good enough! All you see is a girl! I guess I'm just a rabid animal! Out against the world! So sure, I'm not a real boy. yeah, maybe you don't see me! But oh, to be a real boy... That is this poet's dream...