It’s happened my egg has cracked

And my face the truth has smacked

Turns out it was all an act

I’m a woman that’s a fact 

With anxiety I’m racked

By fam’ly I won’t be backed

But my soul is number one.

Even if I’m not their son,

From truth I’ll no longer run.

It probably won’t be fun:

And at first they will be stunned,

And then away I’ll be shunned.

But I cannot let my womb,

Lay cold and dead in her tomb:

For the truth I will make room;

And it cannot come too soon.

Holding it in makes me sick..

Out of the egg crawls a chick.