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Southern Hospitality

Conformity, you confederate, you hound,

From thine bondage I’ve been unbound,

My confidence’s fully erect, a soulful choir

W/ every note rainbow elan t’your genuflect,

Allowing me daily to gaily parade my desires

Before the face of a life oft arbitrary in briars;

A life seemingly fond to sodomize my mood

Already scrambled and stewed by the screwed

Criticism of a southern society’s masculine want

For males like me to refrain from feminine flaunt.

Conformity, I bite my thumb at you.

To thine own self be true

Yet still “walk ‘n’ talk like so,” you say.

“And never a sensitive side of my soul display!”

Is my voice not as bold as you’d like?

Is it pitiful my fists aren’t always curled to strike?

What of my earrings and my hair real long?

Sorry, but this heart sings only the uncensored song.

I AM a feminine spirit, and I spit it proud

Among man’s domain barking so

dogmatically loud!

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