Here is a poem written by a close friend...may ring bells
Cuckoo
I didn’t know that certainties may change,
that dictionary definitions are
chameleons nailing their colours to
the passing masts of political whim.
Who would have thought that people like myself
are only a subset on a spectrum
of femaleness, that I know so little
about my female state, my womanhood.
Or that I am apparently filled with
hate for others who aspire to my state,
I have so little in common with their
world view, perplexed by a distorted lens.
Or that I assume that all such seekers
lost in this new labyrinth of gender
are by nature predators, exploiting
fresh possibilities to dominate.
Well meaning innocents accommodate
these cuckoos in the nest, nurturing them,
ejecting their own to make provision,
exhausted by escalating demands.
I now no longer have a name, a voice,
new insults become my identity.
It was ever thus; there has been no change.
Mysogyny, an able shape shifter.
HTL