They want for you to kneel bowed and broken
To Accept their insights that you are falsely made
They want for you to cower, quiver, quaver
To dodge their righteous, rightful, mocking gaze.
They want for you to duck among the shadows;
The damned demand you hide yourself in shame
They deny your true existence, or insult it
They impugn each day your nature and your name.
But I will not allow for them to beat me down,
And I will look them deadly in their eyes
For I am neither freak, nor joke, nor fetish
And by Castina on her throne they’ll rue their lies.
They laugh at me and call me just a “tranny.”
But I have the heart and stomach of a Queen
And I have a mind that they can only envy:
I shall stand Victorious Cybelene!
[[I’m sure the Classical allusions are all fucked up somehow. Also, thanks to Elizabethrosetransgirl (and subsequently Queen Elizabeth I) from whom I borrowed the “heart and stomach of a Queen” line; sorry for sticking it in such an amateurish work]]