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Rated: E · Poetry · Educational · #2280168
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.

To separate.
Differentiate.
And so elevate.
One to the other.

To distinguish.
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.
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