Identity

I look like my mother
I look like my father
If I am both, then I am neither one
Preset in contradiction
Second guessing expectations
I am simple and I am cumbersome
Most days I wonder where I cometh from
Out the womb of a woman who bore all daughters
But frequently I played my daddy’s son
They called me a tomboy
all jeans and sneakers
Till I found fashion that accentuated my features
And till this day dressing in the mirror feels like a subtle interrogation
of who I’ve become.

Variations of either-or are forced fed
to girls who never dream of being one thing
It’s bludgeoned into your subconscious until in your head
you always feel a seam away from being complete