I see the odd look, I hear the odd whisper. What is it to you?
It's not your hair. Why do you care?
Cut it to conform? Conform to what?
To appease your pre-conceived ideas.
I don't think so.
There was a time when I would have cared.
I might have had doubts. I might have tried.
Is it a boy? Is it a girl?
Open your eyes, and you will see.
I've heard your questions before.
When he had really short hair.
You still thought he was a girl
Or you seemed fit to bully him,
knowing fully well he was a boy.
He knows his mind, he is strong.
He won't conform to your ideals
Your words might cut him,
but he won't bow down.
I'm so proud of him.
My lovely boy, full of love
So much to give
Why would you want to hurt him?
And yes, he is pretty. That's no reason to call him a girl
A beautiful soul, so fragile
He wouldn't dream of hurting you.
Too much empathy.
A born entertainer
Standing out for all the right reasons
Shining on that stage.
Here we belong
Nobody cares how long your hair is
Or what you wear
What matters is what is inside
Some are small minded
Some just like to hurt
Others just don't think
Will someone please explain?