Vulvacore
Angry poetry about a trans woman's existence in white feminist spaces. Raw and jaggered as a trannie's jaw line.
You're propping up your pussies,
as if they're human shields.
Grab yourself a token,
a tranny who looks like you.
The brown girl in the wheelchair,
your flyers show so proud,
why haven't I ever seen her,
in any of your crowds?
Your tea pouring smile it scares me,
it says your'e above all.
Your lack of rage is telling,
Nah, we won't trust y'all.
My bulge it scares you,
As so does my voice.
I'm the wrong kind of tranny,
for making so much noise.
Girl, you don't Fuck,
cause Fucking disguists you.
But you'll tell a faggot
how much you're like us.
But we ain't nothing like you,
we Fuck and we grind.
Show off our tits,
and don't look behind.
You can't pack a punch,
‘cause your white ass feels safe,
But the faggots bash back
while you're defending your status
good old white supremacy.
Tags: typewritten, feminism, poetry