Get Your Premium Membership

genders

Two genders when we were toddlers, we played in the sandbox and hide and seek, we didn't think about whose gender we were a few years later, the girls refused to play with us boys, we were too active climbing walls and they went back, playing with dolls, I presume doing needleworks  A few years later, we realized they were girls they strutted down the street arm-in-arm haughty as one gets  Near them were silent, blushed like the girls knew what we were thinking When one of the boys confessed he had kissed  a girl we were impressed by his daring But "small kettles have ears." I had overheard  the adults, talking about two seamstresses living together, giggling about who was the man I didn't know, at the time, what they were  talking about People, nature had made different were called funny people, no one cared that if they were not men were called perverts, condemned they had to move somewhere no one knew them a difficult life I'm glad to say we are more at ease with men liking men The thing is, there are only two genders, regardless of tendencies, nature had made them It is about biology; there are no third genders when I hear children are given puberty bloggers also surgery in some instances is performed, my blood boils with anger you see, if an unfortunate boy has surgery, he is biologically masculine, people who do this to  other people should be prosecuted and jailed PS I have deliberately avoided words like and , as they didn't exist in my working class childhood  

Copyright © | Year Posted 2024




Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.

Please Login to post a comment

Date: 10/21/2024 9:56:00 AM
my work, Gender has been edited I found two words, edited which I tried to explain the working-class environment I lived in at the time
Login to Reply

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry