Forgive this lame poem. It was written my me, a man, so it's inferior.
|Can’t get behind they.|
I prefer she or he.
And so elevate.
One to the other.
All waitresses are graceful goddesses.
And I like my actors to be actresses.
Not a fan of man.
It’s grating to bump up against ‘em.
And I hate, hate, to rub amongst them.
The male ego is frail retro.
Bragging cons he is a potent dragon.
Dragging on to my latent boredom.
Give me a witch to a wizard, always!
I’ll take a bad bitch to a sad lizard, everyday.
Female ease, pleases me.
Speaking with a dulcet note.
Presenting deceptively soft.
Meanwhile, their thoughts book laps.
As their sharp minds cook with gas.
That’s a secret they yummily keep.
Seeing truths we don’t, running deep.
I could go on, but you get the Queen-theme.
I prefer my he’s to be she’s.