Intersex Poem: September 5th, 2012
“Let’s curse the verse.
The fame of shame can be tamed.
Its name is bold,
written on a frame of gold.
The picture can’t be measured with a Ritcher.
A broken heart torn all apart.
So from the start, we a work of art.
But with a scalpel with no one to tell,
He did not dwell, to save us from hell.
He cut a little bit of this and a little bit of that.
Now we are norm with a perfect form.
But what is this a storm?
Grace we didn’t find, with the situation on mind.
Now all we can do is tell of this smell.
For the fear is always near.
For the fear is always dear.
He said to keep this secret, don’t even think it.
With goodwill and a little pill, we will not spill.
The doc is a rock, heavy and old.
He block’s the truth save any from Ruth.
But the truth must be told.
We will not fold.
Not to run, but cherish the sun.
For it’s rays and it’s daze all will amaze,
Once this see’s the light of day.”
By Mo Cortez
You Can Follow: Mo Cortez Intersex Advocate
United Nations’ Intersex Fact Sheet