The Eight

On this cold and lonely March day

I am still wishing for an easier way

I walk out the door filled with pride

I do what it takes to gain my stride
I wear lipstick and sweet perfume never looking for a strife
but just in case, I pack a loaded gun and a very sharp knife

She, Her, and Hers are my hard fought pronouns

I am a fierce Transgender woman with no bounds
passing through countless dreary ghost towns
fending off bigotry, hate and thirsty Hell hounds