Poem: I want to be a woman, you know?

[davina]

I want to be a woman, you know?
Well at least thats what I think.
I told the doctor the other week,
and he's sending me to the shrink.

It started, oh so long ago,
I cant remember when,
but mother found me in her nightie,
and I've kept it quiet since then.

After a bath, I'd wrap a scarf,
well a towel to be precise,
around my head like and orphan girl,
I thought I looked very nice.

I'd go to bed and wish so hard,
to change into a girl,
with all the bits that girls should have,
and a dress in which to twirl.

All hope was lost, when reality checked,
and my dreams began to fade
so I began to make the most of,
how my body had been made.

I tried to hide, the feelings inside,
but I couldn't make them falter,
and I felt compelled, like a magic spell,
to dress not how I oughta.

On into married life I went,
and things were just the same,
I'd dress up when the coast was clear,
again and again and again.

Eventually it made me sad,
depression took its toll,
then things began to fall apart,
and I ended up on the dole.

But now I know whats causing it:
A clash 'tween sex and gender,
and I need to get it sorted out,
NHS or legal tender.

So while I wait for officialdom,
to check what I've been stressing,
in solace and isolation,
I get by with some cross-dressing.