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When my name died I did not mourn itI did not bury my name in the back yard with Fluffy and Fido Covering my name with flowersInstead I just just stood thereWatching it parish as the truth of my words cut through it
How messed up is it that we live in a world Where blue is for boys and pink is for girls Where it’s better for men to have a gun than a doll
I don’t need to fit your criteriaOf an ideal identity of masculinityI don’t need to be what you thinkI should be. I’m far from that
But I don't know much about God I know want to sit with him and his others But my existence is sin And I'll never reach what I want Its fruitless
Therein, residing in my mind, is a monster so evil, dark and unkind. Thoughts racing, telling me that I’m hideous. Yelling and screaming to rip off my face; because I look ridiculous.
When it takes courage for you to stand, and proclaim your name, and you have to pray, that your voice, doesn't break, or taper off, or fall on deaf ears.
You hide behind pages withered with millenia of hatred Each letter an excuse for you to say "I don't care if they hold hands, Just don't do it front of my kids."
This is my letter to my family and friends, this is not where our journey ends.
I never believed in santa as a kid I don’t have a story to tell about how I find out the tooth fairy isn't real I don't know if it was because I watched too much tv
Growth Getting bigger Growing up Getting smarter These don't always go hand in hand
Who are we really when we are shut out of the world. Not even allowed a bathroom break. Why are we set aside and over looked. Jobs, college acceptances, name changes.
Sitting in the dark. Dreams vivd. If only they were from the milk drank or the cheese eaten. Much, much deeper in the soul, it leeches. Somehing of a scratch it was.
gym, health, science classes fill with that unforgettable stench of used textbooks craterfaces and jockies everyone with the same yet different growing and changing none like the other
Who are you to shape this body? Putting your arms around me guiding my hands to mold me into what you believe me to be
Mission Control cannot be reached. and unfortunately there has been a breach out into the atmosphere goes my Mind Hopefully it will not be hard to find
i slept in my binder last night, the fabric compressing tight holding my ribs close
you must do what you need to do to be authentic. the discovery of your true self includes connecting the dots it means digging deep into the archives of childhood,
When I was young I always wondered Why I never fit in. Like a broken puzzle piece, I just couldn't complete life's picture. Because my choices Were taken as sin, I never got a chance
i've done it. okay? i've done a lot. i've laughed till i peed myself, cried until my throat was sore, figured myself out so i wouldn't have to
Its taken three years for my skin to harden Watch it turn from rice paper to steel I used to be friendly as a sign of submission But now I stand toe to toe with those I don’t even reach the shoulders of
Comin' up in this confusing world You're not sure if you're a boy or a girl You told me not to tell your parents But could your haircut make it any more apparent? Somebody help me get through this
it came to me under the guise of well-meaning concern for my body, my chemicals, my family, my voice, my potential future lovers
Dear girl I used to be…I’m sorry.I’m sorry for the lies, I’m sorry for making you put on that disguiseA fake smile, a fake face, a fake body and a fake placeIn this world, telling you what you needed to be
Denise woke in the January dark. It was 3am and a new moon. She put on a dress for the first time. Soft cotton, made for young skin. The fuzz tickled her shoulders
Denise woke in the January dark. It was 3am and a new moon. She put on a dress for the first time. Soft cotton, made for young skin. The fuzz tickled her shoulders
This is a confession, handcuffed, miranda righted confession I killed a girl. I killed a girl and I liked it but- I hate to say that she never existed.
I am only two years, seven months older two x’s don’t bother me now and they came round this summer, remain adamant name is going to be Aaron, one who is a mountain of strength
What should I sayYou ask me what I amI could say "I am what I am"I mean damn
this life it’s jovial, isn’t it ? sprouted with his anger, his disbelief, his lack of acceptance but her
Humanity is blessed with a gift Of different cultures, different ideas Of uniqueness But are we really that different, you and I? That we don't deserve all the same rights as you do?
i thought if i could break the loop, if i could take the broken record and smash it, if i could stop the endless noise, if i could hear anything else, anything,
I like statistics and I’m relying on data, my logic is probably the lunchroom is full of a couple dozen gay kids thinking damn, I hate how everybody here is straight
today i went looking for scholarships, hoping to cash in on the wealth the media has told me will be freely granted to me by virtue of my "queerness"-- and find myself terrifically underqualified.
it happens every other time you see yourself in the mirror you feel like a ghost trapped in a cadaver sometimes tied down limb by limb
What is normal?In the womb,I was God’s perfect creation,His treasured possession,Fearfully and wonderfully made.When I was born,The doctor cried out:It’s a girl!As they rushed me down the hall to NICU.When I was in kindergarten they told us to sta
My fingertips go numb Yet, somehow I am able to clench a fist The thought of punching you in the face overtakes me, but I stuff it down I want to watch you suffer Just as you had made me
Aimy laughs each time they open their mouth and someone else’s voice comes out ‘Cause ain’t this funny Two white non-trans people walk onto a stage, reciting sermons about the dead
Hush! See that glowing of the river-nymph, skin lit with the sun’s admiration? Trust the slow glide of the wind’s tresses to lead her back to home. She dances with a flame that sears
I would say I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place, But sometimes, it’s more like I’m stuck between a rock and the ground. I’m pinned in place, and I can’t move.
I walk this road, this road towards my truth. My truth which I have fought long and hard To find and hold onto. Always searching for myself in this shell of a body. This shell isn't me, but I've come to love it.
You are the reminder of a life that i was never meant to exist in, the life of shattered mirrors and holes punched into walls.
I think to text you, "I miss us" as if to grasp for the old threads of something slipping out of reach. It happened so quickly and also too slowly,
There is a facade, a thing you don't see But here we're all stuck on "he" or "she" And forget there is more than that to me.
I've finally thrown her out of my house.I defenestrated the cunt after all these years.I still catch drops of her blood pooling underneath the doormat and dripping from the leaves overhead of my porch.
They say “God doesn't make mistakes” as a way of telling us we're wrong for wanting – No – For needing to be ourselves. It's not a mistake that I'm transgender. How could it be a mistake
I look at myself in the mirror and only see a monster. I see the fat that sticks off of my stomach; what am I? Pregnant?! I see the stretch marks that line my legs, I must be fat.
Dear Uncertain Teachers, You may have noticed some features some things I'm insecure about but I'm here to tell you without a doubt that I am a boy.
Another black man is killed Another trans kid commits suicide Another woman is sexually harassed Aren't we just statistics In the sadistic game of life?
I am the boy who wakes up every morning, Only to see the girl in the mirror mocking him. Her round face. Her curves. Her breasts. All knives thrown at me, Trying to break my bones.
Dear Ten Year Old Aemon,
dear dad, you look at me when i am a woman, pretty pink dress clung like a leech sucking content from my skin.
Dear Lover, I am a lie. I did not mean to be something that I internally despise But I, I can't help it. You believe that we are as we are born and assigned to either blue or pink.
I couldn't save you, My friend. Whose smile was big and great, your eyes peeking out over the moutain of cheek. Your short hair that you tried so desperatly to grow out.
My Dearest Clementine! I’m convinced little birds help you dress every morning! You’re a tall sunflower with petals bright and soft. Your cheeks are dappled with tawny freckles
Shaky breathing, heartbeat pounding, tears forming. Speeches are the contests for which they demonstrate their strengths, heard ‘round the world.
i never asked for thisthe dirty looks in the hallwaythe self-loathing i constantly feelthe unnecessary attentionthe way that i look in the mirror and see someone elsethe voice that doesn't belong to me
I want to find the words The words to explain explain how I feel as a kid today You try to listen
Dear Abusive Boyfriend, Dear Binder, Three-in-Five Three-in-Five Three. In. Five. I was part of three-in-five. I was with him for One year and three months. One year and three months.
Every day is a battle, every year a war. I am your son, your daughter no more. Please, I beg thee not to cry,
Normalcy often sought by those fearful of what they grew up absent of. Who is to say identity is a sin? That checking the other box is not acceptable.
Dear Me, I am transgender And I am afraid of the world I am afraid to walk out of my house, For the fear that someone may hurt me for being me. I fear that I will not find love,
August 23, 2017 Dear Mom, Please read this entire letter through and don't skip around; read this before opening the email I sent you. Please keep an open mind. I love you!
Terrible. Tasteless. Taboo. All are words to describe, What I long for. It doesn't hurt me, It doesn't hurt you, So why does it matter? Terrific.
I have two arms And a few legs A torso, sure And a head And a few organs, I'm told Maybe some teeth and some bones I look at you And you do too You look like me, a body with a soul
You come into this world with the reassurance of acceptance and love.
Adjusting the disgusting bra on my chest, I flip ratty, old dress over my head. Glancing in the mirror, I feel so wrong.
One year older, Another year lost. Another year waiting, I paid the cost. One year of dysphoria, And hiding from the summer sun. One year of being ignored, Stuffed under the pink rug.
Dear Briana Me and you, we haven’t spoken Not in a long time How are things? Do you get along with your sister? Are you still scared of the dark?
Monday: long brown silky hair, Dark black eyes, drowning Me inside of them, my reflection Dimmed yet clear to see. Who is, she.
Help me! I trapped inside someone whom I’ll never be. The phrases thrown at me feel like a dagger in the back. Being hurt by those closest to me. I know they don’t mean it.
My collorbones like handles poking through my skin The rungs of a ladder to pull me out and set me free And when I pull to climb out of this wretched body I feel instead myself crumble and fold within
I know things have been tough I know moving in must suck The old tennant was awful at cleaning up after themself The wiring is always off
Welcome to the Closet. Here you will discover the many wonderful things I cherish. On multicolored hangers, an array of shirts and dresses are organized by clothing type.
I am trapped in the closet, Such a scary place, With monsters around me, About to bite my face. I hold on for dear life, Day after day, Waiting, just waiting, Will I fade away?
Dear my dysphoria, You may seem invisible to the rest of the world, but I see you. You’re always there in the corner of my mind. On good days, you stick to yourself, just staring me down.
Everytime I see the doctor, I pretend to be who they want me to, Or who they think I am. For I know if I tell them, They'd invalidate me instead: "You are female." "Forget about it."
Dear Ethan, When we met I have already held your body I have already kissed your lips You were once my Ava I loved you so much I still took you as Ethan They weren't the same person
Am I not human, For having the courage, To stand up, And embrace who I am? I am no different from you, We eat the same food, Breath the same air, Is it just because I wear a binder,
I almost don't want to voice my opinion, because I like staying in the back of the mix, but it's hard to do. Straight from the mind, the mouth, of a transgendered person, this is honesty.
Dear motherland When can I come home? I sleep On a bed A hundred wars Away from you. The air is cold
Dull Shrub weaping of blandness no water can help you thrive like your sisters weak roots with no identity I've tried to replant you in the same brittle dirt that rejected you
Death is knocking at my door again tonight she says I’m trying so hard to slam the door in his face But each day it gets a little harder please help me He’s been persistent comin round every night
When I say I promise I mean it It's not something I say a lot When I vowed unformally to be yours It wasn't because I wanted to tell you what you wanted to hear It's because I truly meant it
Because I love you... I'll support your decisions, Stand by you during your transitions, Be on your side in the hardest times, Give you hugs even when midnight chimes,
“It’s a girl.” The doctor said Holding the squirming babe up to show her to her father. Immediately, he tries, and fails, to hide the blue balloons. “She’s a girl.” Her cousins state,
Today marks the middle of August, And quite possibly the middle of my life. But how can that be true when I’m only 16? Do I have a disease? Did I get into an accident that shortened my life? Or may it just be because of the people around me. Calli
The mirror doesn show Who deep down we know It only shows the outside. To become who we feel, To little appeal, We must spend hundres of thousands of dollars. Our identity we hide
“Rapunzel, Rapunzel let down your hair!” Rapunzel cringed inward and sighed with despair. Her hair ladder was good for one thing indeed, For seeing her prince, she did desperately need.
firstly you were my best friend. secondly you were my brother. now we have grown apart, but friends we will always be. i can't wait to meet my new sister, her name is sarah.
Excuse me-I don't mean to be a bother-I'll move out of your way-So sorry for the interruption-Please excuse my rudeness-My deepest apologies-I'm so sorry-Please forgive me-I don't mean to intrude-
We all know that once upon a time This blonde headed animal lover was fine as a dime She had friends that were mice to feel less alone For her stepsisters and stepmother had taken over her home
there’s something creeping, creeping into my head. a thought, not a voice. but it still pricked deep, making me flinch with the first few words.
To the person I was, the person I am, and the person I someday hope to be. To the person I carved out of my skin Out of my head to give it more room
Why do they kill the flowers whose dreams float above delicate, skin petals Turning the scorching sun into a sweet nectar blossom? To satisfy the darkened green blades?
Born in 1999, a Northwest city. Three sisters and three brothers, parents with no college degree and one income. But what do I know, of the riots, police brutality,
Using the bathroom is a basic right. Is it? Being who we really are is a basic right. Is it? A world without judgement is the word we are striving for. Is it?
Can someone explain this conundrum to me?
When I look in the mirror I see a face rottiong away I don't know who she is But I know it's not who I am What am I? Who is she? Why's this mirror always lying to me ?
He’s just a token Of his family’s disappointment A silent reminder of what’s bad All the dark in this world He’s just a token
A boy or a girl, It doesn't matter because You're still my friend
America, aren't you supposed to be free? A land free of racism, injustice, and just letting me be me? Every day we turn on the news, A man is dead, his wife and unborn baby too.
Hello, I'm Diamond, or at least I would like to be, If I told you that I was, you would have to believe me. But I could be someone else, An imposter or traitor, criminal or spy,
That feeling, those feelings, that tingling I have The twinkling, the gleaming, screaming within The bleeding, the pleading, the grieving that’s been Confusing when it’s who I am.
a boy is lying. he tells them he is a girl and they say he is. a boy is sighing.
Reguarding our humanity,people with no knowledge about meas a person,as a student,as a member of our communitiesdebate about my rightsas if I am undeserving of them
I am a lesbian. I am a human. I am alive. I have feelings. I do not hate men. Men have not hurt me. It's not a phase. I can fall in love.
it’s not easy to explain, or maybe it’s easy But i just don’t know the right words or maybe i have the right words
I am Cheyenne.I come from a place of support but lack of understanding. I am not who I was born to be.I found out when I was thirteen.Climbing trees, instead of drinking hot tea,
I'm still me, but I'm not the same. My hair is shorter, my spirit bolder. I say I'm still me and in a way it is true. But that doesnt mean, That it's the "me" that you knew.
I am a ration cabinet. Every time you squeeze through my doors, under the loose chain, you take bits and pieces of me.
They have a diagnosis for it all.In a hospital, breathing runs you 300 dollars and it’s not complete without the insurance telling you it’s your problem, not theirs-
Dear Julia, There are times I see the ghost of you haunting the places we used to visit.
When you finally get to unwrap the dressings bound around your chest, Try not to consider this as your first day living as a man.You have always been man.
Hey, Nick! I mean...Nicole. That's not going to be your name for much longer but we'll get into that later Remember good ole twenty fifteen? Twenty-sixteen is like that but with a swirling vortex of terror
When people grow old They can easily identify a period of their lives Where growth came easy, where smiles were abundant
26 dead in 2016 My people are dying at the hands Of those who refuse to understand us 26 dead in 2016
Odd as it seems, I don’t remember where I was. I just remember my sister wanting to cuss
Dear Mack, Yes,that’s you.I knowyou stillgo by Lauren.Trust me,you’ll adjustto it. I know it’s weird;me writing to you.It’s all I couldthink to do. I just wantto help. I know it’s hard.Everything, I mean.
In the palms of some mad love Catharsis and a coma, symptoms of my soma From what foul slum did this sickness spread? Not everyone's a part of the lucky some Eyes wide open, conscious, willing and brash
I remember at the start Everybody prayed Twenty sixteen please be better They said and said and said I remember at the start
i just want to be. to be anything i choose. to be a doctor. to be a lawyer. to be an artist. but to be anything i choose, i am forced to change. to change who i am. to change what i stand for.
Do you know what it feels like, To run your fingers through the freshly shorn grass Behind your ears, For the first time, And to feel the steady crackle of your heartbeat, Burning like a hearth, like home.
you you are a black hole you consume everything you touch and collapse in upon yourself when there is no more for you to hold tightly to the void that trickles like ink when you speak
How to drop your body offbehind a dumpster and transforminto a bird, eyes fluttering with eye shadowbeak puckered with lipstickFly into a club and look beautifulGo to the bathroom and transform
There is this boy that I once knew, He had a barbed wire smile, And an equally as rough kiss. I held his shaking hands, And kissed his scarred arms,
I was declared a Teenage attention seeker the day I came out as Transgender, because just being LGBT+ Was suddenly in style. As though my gender was a prize to be sold to the next person that claimed it theirs.
She's a perfect little girl, When she spins her skirt twirls, Her hair is more beautiful than a thousand gems, But the truth is she doesn't fit in with the other femmes, Everyone says she's a perfect little girl,
Why is this a world where people are punished for themselves? They say God hates gays, They say God hates trannies, They say God hates blacks, They say God hates Asians, They say God hates us,
I'll never be enough, I'll never be tall enough to fit in with other boys, I'll never be cool enough to be surrounded by people, I'll never be 'one of the boys,' But that's ok,
The boys say I'm not one of them, The girls say I can't come in, The gays say I don't belong, The rest say this is just wrong, Where do I fit in? My friend likes pink so he wears it,
I’m a boy like any other, you’d know if you looked at me, But when I walk with all my friends, all they say is she, When someone calls me my real name, I just want to cry, But I’d never say anything or I’d be mortified,
They've written "pink" in permanent ink on everything I own: my body's curves, my voice's verve - they scratched it into stone. The word is there on everything I have and have not known -
I am not a girl or a woman or a bitch - not a daughter or a lady or a mistress or a maybe - I invite the saints to hate me for my gender's inner glitch - for the figure in my coding
Some people look at me. Look again, recognize my gender. Please tell me that you know what I mean. My existence means that the world is changing.
P-O-U-... I spell out my town's name, so familiar on my lips. The rose hips I keep forgetting to make tea with, the pitch of pines and gossipping voices. Wind behind your back, whispering when your head's turned.
Scraped from the wombs Of a broken child Screams united with The new and the old Fresh fists clenched Power born A Girl As told by doctors Only looking skin deep A Boy
Jumping from rock to rock,Mama said I’d “lose my head”.Apparently writing wasn’t enough, then.I was young.
Alisha, how are you? Did you cross under the rainbow? What the Afghan storytellers tell thier children, So they can become who they want to be.. Thought about writing a song for you,
There’s never been a way out of it, these gender roles, these confinements, these chains you put on me weighing me down. It’s either pink or blue, black white, rich poor, minority majority.
My breasts are a burden To myself and sadly society. My breasts are a burden Because when I wake up in the morning they get in the way of me seeing my feet. My breasts are a burden
I was just twelve. Twelve years of age when the words hit my ears like a blood curling scream. Pinned up against a wall clutching my heart as the words pierced me like sharpened daggers.
Once upon a time A princess was imprisoned By her stupid, rich, right-wing parents And their fucking shit religion They told her she was wrong to feel Like God made a mistake
The heart behind his false chest The voice so weak from shaking breaths The blood so damn unnecessary The mirror lies. His body's scary. She is a stranger. A ghost. A monster.
I’m pretty sure that public bathrooms might just be the most important invention of our modern world, I mean think about it,
Colors blend from blue to pink, whichever one your blankets dyed when you're given to your parents at birth.
You’re not like me, they say. They’re right you know; I’m not like them, not like them at all; but they are unaware,
I feel like my dreams have become so small.I used to dream big dreamsLike being president,A firefighter,An Austronaut,A baker.But now I’m so simple.All my dreams are T.
Dear Allison, Our mother gave us this name.And I want a clean slate.I'm not sure if I'm supposed to apologize.I look in this mirror, staring at you, wiping our eyes.
Maybe she likes sports Maybe he likes ballet Maybe she's a he Maybe he's a she Maybe she likes girls Maybe he likes boys We must be treated equal We are humans, not cookie cutter toys
We don't know why we're here So confused, we may want to leave All these trans folks gettin' killed here almost daily We're just trying to fit in, but instead become a pet peeve
He always looks as though he’s tasted something bitter, so much so that i wonder if the cigarette he lifts to his lips tastes sweet to him. He smiles at me like he’s holding back tears,
Every time someone would ask me my sexuality, I would feel the words get caught in my throat And I’d try my hardest not to swallow them down.
Not everyone understands What it's like to be… How to put it… Different? And I'm not talking about That circle peg square hole bullshit I'm talking about The open chest cavity feeling
I am trapped in a cage!A cage of my own skin wrapped around me.And it is inescapableLike metal prison bars around my soul.I've tried to cut my way through,Burn my way out,But nothing can change this hellish skin.Going through life,Going to school,
You call me Beauty, The mirror, Frankenstein's bride, Do not let me burn
Holding silvers and golds into place on your neck, Keeping notes and to-do lists on a refrigerator in check.
This skin does not belong to me it is merely borrowed. A place in which I only temporarily reside. My skin is not yet finished. My time has not yet come. But it will.
infants are stamped to maximize efficiency to help society run smoothly, you understand yes, they're stamped right between their chubby little legs categorized in neat little boxes
I press my forehead against your cheek,A hypochondriac child desperately pleas with fear,“Am I sick? Am I sick?”
My fair lady, my fair lady Be a good girl, be a dear Do the cleaning, be the cook All your worth is in how you look
resilient resilent me, like a bouncing ball one world to another, down every street- bouncing bouncing I can run at top speed, at the drop of a hat block out loud sounds-
I am a tra
She calls us “petulant, self-indulgent” My voice cracks Society says we’re hot for now Look at all the new inclusive media! Within ourselves, us othered folk
I am Lucas. Yet people insist that I am someone named "Hannah", Someone that is no longer me. I am male. Yet people insist that I am female
So, I poem about me? Well, Me isn't the me you see. At least on the outside,that is. Have you ever looked into the mirror and seen something you're not?
I am Fletcher Pronounced, FL-ETCH-UR, rhymes with stretcher, something I chose for myself I am a Boy Despite what my parents or my body might say
First, I am going to start with what I am not. I am not my sex. I am not that three-letter pronoun I hear and see in the back of my mind.
He speaks so calmly Quiet as a mouse he is He reminds me of my childhood fears So quiet, so distant, so beautiful A creature of so much delight from afar I sit there and wonder why
There is a boy who wishes he was a daughter, Dresses in skirts and dresses who bothers can't tell the world, not even his own father. They call him a faggot, they call him a dork,
Unassuming stealth, Trapped in a social net. "To be or not to be," I ask. I could break free, but I am weak. No faith to be found anywhere. Struggle, Struggle, Struggle. An opening!
There are parts of me that I expressed That are now only memories.
A baby, not even a moment oldIts story is unwritten, clean, untoldGrows into a child, encouraged to fulfill his dreamsJust be sure to fit within society’s scheme
Smoke in my lungs, Raging monster coursing in crimson,
Why'd you care if he/she had short of long hair?
You buy your baby Blue onesies, racecars, and little footballs When your baby’s hair gets to his shoulders You cut it short And say how handsome he looks You love your baby boy
Gray business doesn't seem to matter,
Stop, the image in the mirror will crash Though, these weights may be lifted with the pluck of each fake eyelash I'll remove this lipstick, because it encloses my smile
Looking through my old word documents, I remember when I shaved my face. My friend, newly male, slipping easily into the persona of a frat boy, told me to shave my face.
when i was eleven i described something as being “so gay” and my mother told me never to use gay as an insult because i had two godfathers and they were in love with each other
While the world splits meAnd everythingIn twos,The only option that fits meI'm not allowed to choose.When I tuck up my hairIt's not to impress you.So don't tell me what I should wear.
The smell of books surrounds me. The dim light coming from the lamp illuminates the small room. The bed beneath me creaks as I shift positions to get more comfortable with the book in my hands. I am 7 and I am a writer.
FAT, TUBBY, BIG, CHUBBY, SLOPPY, GROSS, SMELLY All depictions of a full woman portrayed upon the television of society Blinded by our true beauty, so let me regulate for a moment
Loot at me I'm here just like you See me For who I am not for who you want me to be You see we are alike: you and me But you wonder... Is it she or he? I look at you
No matter what I do, No matter what I say, You will always see, What you want me to be. You can call me "she" instead of "he" And you can call me by my birth name.
I'm listing in these waters of oxidized dust,
She was beauty her curves were delicious the way her clothes stuck to her skin whispering to them She walked with a dropped head she didn't know every step she took She left the room breathless
In memory of Leelah Alcorn A poem by: Destiny Diaz (ddiaz80) ©All rights reserved *** Forced to wear a mask, As I epitomize a façade, That many will believe,
Slave of inhumanity, product of my own insanity The man I am is not because of who I was but who I want to be I stand for what is unbearable, I breathe and am unbreakable
These infernal steaming pools, housed in rust encumbered riveted domes, Constructed by prison masons posing as scribes, Spout their plumes of water rising to eclipse skylights, fogging up the warped cracking glass,
These bandages covering my body,
Dried rust covers the walls turned iron, covered in hydraulic spurts of super glued wounds,
My gender is unselected this everchanging ever growing fast paced life is one that is mine, and always will be Too proud to feel ashamed of something so beautiful,
If I didn't change methen I don't know how I'd beI've lived my life through broken memoriesof who I once wasmixed with all the people who have shaped meinto the thing I am today
Rainbeat By Lindt Schmitz You’re standing in a forest. You have no voice, and your
Lookin in the mirror, I don't see me, This can't be me. This reflection Isn't the real me, It just can't be. I've never been This person In my whole life.
When one is born, the doctor says, "It's a boy!" or "It's a girl!"
When I was a little girl I was scaredto tell the world that the other little girldown the road had a crush on me.Because I was worried that cruel peoplewould mock her or through stonesas she passed by,
FakeA descriptor built from uncertainty and accusations Tailored to those who do not fit regulations or expectations - freaks Used by those who do not understand anyone and those who wish to understand themselves.
He goes on through the motions All he's got to show are tears He'll be their perfect daughter
Change who decides what that means? Websters says it means to make or become different But what is different? Is different the people who walk down the street
In the beginning, I owned two masks. One was a Barbie, one was a Power Ranger.
he was nice
Let's get one thing straight, I AM. Not how you were expecting that to go, I know. Hi, my name is Lauren. Now, this face you see is one of a female.
Holding on so tightly of everything you know, Only to find that you want to let it go, What happens when all the hate and a taboo Becomes Who you are, What happens when What you love Tears your family apart,
Here we come, a busy people trotting to and fro. You’d never guess; we hardly let it show. In fact, I say, neither would they. They can’t tell, themselves. We’re blind and dumb,
Boy or girl? Man or woman? My parents cry and say no. I am a girl, they say. I am causing my dad to have a heart attack, they say. I am a disappointment, a loser. This is a phase. Boy or girl?
Behind the curtain, under the bed, harrassed and rejected; I'm already dead. I'm not confused, I know who I am. And on the inside, I am a man. I see it in my hands,
I dream of a beautiful woman I gave birth to years ago.
You told me, that one day, I would be the Queen of my own kingdom. You said that the bullying would stop, and that I wouldn't remember all the hateful words that had been said to me.
No one knows the anxiety I face Never understanding the difficulties of being in my place I'm a man, in a womens shell Forever living every day in my dysphoric hell. I'm used to being just another guy,
Enter head on, in your binding. So called companionship, misinterprets For; contract. For it will be a "duty" and "privilege".
Ten Thoughts on Loving a Transgender Boy One: His hands are soft. Softness like that after years of Dishwashing and viola lessons Feels like a miracle. Two:
Why must we hide Why must we apologize Why must we be criticized For who we are inside I see no reason to lie People are monsters Hating those who just want To love
Gay. G. A. Y. G as in "God hates you." A as in "abomination." Y as in "Why haven't you killed yourself yet?" "There's nothing to be afraid of!" they say "It doesn't matter that you're gay."
Where am I? The question we always ask. Trapped in a box wearing just a gas mask. Let me out. I can barely breathe. I want to be me, but you don’t fucking agree?
I am the same inside.
There is a disparity between my mind and my body, like wearing a suit two sizes too small and pressing out desperately but unable to flee. Looking in the mirror, facing fears,
In the short lapse between life and death, an individual is taught by society who to love and how to act. It angers me that so many people follow what they are told.
Nobody understood me before. Awkward. Child. Girl. Nobody understands me now. Awkward. Teen. Boy. Nobody will ever understand me. Awkward. Adult. Man. Some people think I am daring.
"Is that a boy or a girl?" Asked the random girl reffering to my friend after a school assembly "How is their gender relevant to you?" Asked the friend who's sick of cisgender entitlement to another person's gender
A human body is made up of trillions of cells Those cells form together to make people People vary in size from babies the size of a hand To still growing adults above eight feet tall
she got hurt when she was 5 when she fell. she was in her room alone, pretending to be ruler of the skies as she jumped off a cloud of comforters and pillows onto a hard wooden floor where she slid and
His lips touch mine; they nip and pull, and although I see sweet succulent lips characteristic of a woman, I feel a man’s powerful grip against the curve of my body. They hold me close, desperate and compulsive.
I can be whatever I want to be-That is, except myself.
All of her life she had been trappedIn this body of a girl,And if she did not have cropped, messy hair,If she did not wear loose clothes,If she were not me,She would have been beautiful.
when you were little, did you ever play hide and seek? there’s always one kid who hides in the closetif it was you, you know whythe closet’s warm and dark and quiet and as long as you stay silent, no one can tell you’re there
The emphasis placed on between the legs Is what is reflected in the world today We have become so consumed with a person's sex That it takes precedence over the person they are Who they will become
I can't get my words out because the constrictor in my throat is begging my silence to keep it company. Because they're bigger than me and their burns sting like the cigarettes they want me to be So I stay silent
I have this friendWho used to be a girlWho dated this other girl in the grade above us.Her mother tossed her in therapyLike it was just some condition that could be cured,
Needles and darts Are the words flung over my head. I can't even start to describe the thoughts I get in bed. The world feels like it's broken, Everybody's views all seem to conflict.
Yes. Of course I've reflected upon thisWho would have overlooked it?Metamorphosis must be taken in hasteContemplating, name-changing, eye-lifting,BeautificationYou have to be attractive to obtain
I am tired Tired of being stuck Forced to. . . conform because why be me, when I can be them? Discover yourself! they cry Be you! is their motto
The voice in my head is so pleasantly bi polar.
Alex undresses in the bathroom Water running in the shower He glances up; In that mirror of truth Hanging; On the bathroom wall; Continuously reminding him “I won’t be accepted in a world
I drag this blade across my already smooth skin Hoping to feel the roughness I see deep within and as I bleed I realize this roughness is far deeper than my body could ever reach.
Feeling like I'm locked in a cage Have we all receded into the middle ages? I'm in my prison, not created by me, but created by my owners I'm nothing but a slave, a slave to their ideas.
Somedays I look down at this body, I do not believe that it is mine, My eyes are mine, but every thing else seems as though I was so far away from it, like a drunk man pulls on strings
listlessly, i walk forwardwith tired feet and a tiny voice, i say"i am a woman"the tremor in my voice decieves my fear
When you walk through the halls and students don't know If you're a boy or a girl, and think their confusion don't show
A little about me before reading this poem.
#YOWO And I loved a girl with pain etched into her lips and death written along her soul. Art poured from her fingertips and poetry was carved into
I’ve known I was a boy since I was three years old It’s not only something I know It’s something I feel deep into the crevasses of my soul Most people don’t think twice of it
My heart is slowly beating
“Where the Moon Sleeps”
I wish I could tell you about myself: that I love the whole spectrum of gender and that I feel so uncomfortable in my own skin that I want to peel it all away and become new
Since when does my sexuality effect Your well being, Your family, Your life. Since when does anyone's sexuality effect Your well being, Your family, Your life. It's a matter of fact
My eyes are green My makeup is black My hair is blonde And my thoughts are back ………………………… My soul is blue
Her hair is short And bitter sweet Her eyes are red She doesn’t sleep ……………………………………….. She lay awake
This isn’t a poem it’s a cry for help,
Dysphoria Sucks These feelings can suck my non-existent dick but shit That just makes the dysphonia worse doesn’t it? My dysphoria peaks when my estrogen levels do
Free Baby beluga in the deep blue sea You swim so wild and you swim so free Heaven above and the sea below
Fight Another Hour By Jesse Yelvington Screw you for saying who and what I’m ‘supposed’ to be, Though I hope you know that nothing you could say will ever change me;
There's a light in my heart And I want it to be voiced Just because I am different, does it mean I don't have a choice? Of who I love and who I don't Do I have to be straight to be normal?
Everything is fantastic, euphoric even.People who've been there from the start surround you,Laughing, joking, smiling, even mum is bragging.“Yeah, I have the best daughters ever.”
Teacher, open your eyes! You are feeding them all lies! We are living in a society so enwrapped with gender, I imagine myself becoming a bender. Not only of rules, regulations, and taboo,
I've been raised in a world that dictates who you can love. Not by the foundation of their character, but the structure of their bodies. A point where I feel ashamed to mention that the girl walking past me is beautiful.
I feel your pain. I know the hate. I see the fate we're doomed to take. The cruel words. The harsh remarks. I share your scars, and broken hearts. We join hands. We stand tall.
What do I see? A world filled with hatred. I see a world were man can't be with man. They can't be seen holding hands. I see a world with double standards because if you're a lesbian it's cool.
You’re not really a man- I would know, because I am, And since you’re not like me, I will never let you be. I spend time every day Telling you to look away From the things that you feel,
Your body was not meant to be a battlefield nor your vertebrates land mines war does not belong on your fingernails but the spaces between them echo with fire of guns aimed at something deeper than flesh.
Little girl, Nose stuffed in journals all day, longing You never come out to play, they say But you're just waiting for the chance It feels like epochs have gone by; it's only been a few years
A poem by Alan Turing… Title: Who is Worthy? Who can dictate whether or not an individual is worthy? Ignorant individuals view others based merely on their own journey.
Since the dawn of time, critisizm, judgment, and alienation has been happening. Racism and hate has been spread.
The piano hovers above and around me The soft lilting music drifts into class the notes hang heavy and the sound drowns me out as the noise level shatters glass
Call me crazy to admit my past affiliations. Call me insane to pursue my aspirations. Shall I lose my sanity to issues of nonsence and dislocated tangents As I search for everlasting fullfillment?
We burned like neon Bright and quick Captivating Exhilirating Lips forever chapped
When I look into the mirror I see me. I don't see 6 colors or 6 women, just 6 of me. But then I realize what you see in me. You've colored me a rainbow and that blinds you from the real me.
I've searched my life’s peaks and hearts disappointments for gold, for money, power, fame. Drained, I can only see myself, in you.
The minute I walked into those hospital hallways of middle school I knew I had been lied to. The once blissfull saying of: “You can be anything you set your mind to” Became a torturous saying for one simple reason.
Who I love should not define who I am as a person.Why can you love her, butI can’t?What evolutionary methods refuse to releaseme from this cycle.Where can I go for my rights should not be a question.
Prop 8 You're so full of hate You f*cked up a state And forced us to wait As bait for the courts You seemed easy to kill But not until bigots got their way Trying to "Pray away the gay"
Segregation reformed by lips laced with loquacious words, Promoting the definition of separated girls and segregated worlds.Diffusing through hierarchical halls, paneled with the predecessors of freedom;
I smile outwardly to you because I don't need your pity, You see me as a happy, bubbly, and sparkling young woman. Did you ever realize that beyond my smile my eyes are filled with stories I'll never say with my lips?
You fell through the sky Hitting cement To break into a new dimension Where you can fly, And now your body And spirit exist In different planes. The chicken and the egg,
They lock you up They take pieces of you Inch by inch Try to force you Into silence Into willful captivity Caged birds cannot fly But they can still sing Do not let your song be silenced
although born a female, there was something that i knew i knew that i was different, thoughts that stuck like glue. i put on all the dresses, i did just what they said, but every night i cried, i fought hard inside my head.
I met this lively girl, She’s funny and smart. She looked passed my walls, And straight into my heart.
See that girl sitting over there? Rumor has it that in the ninth grade she and a senior boy with a movie poster face and a Hollister body went at it in the bushes at Sarah Something-Or-Other's 18th birthday party
You’re not above me you just judge me in the direction you think I ought to go. You don’t know me so don’t show me that you think you know my dreams No one knows more than the one who dreams,
Our two demons came, with different form, neither of us to blame that we couldn't conform. Yours was a bully, against his words I was a shield, defended you fully, until he did yield.
I have a voice; Strong and loud. Can make people listen, People in the crowd. I know right from wrong; I'm not sitting in a cloud. I'll scream till you hear me; Scream really loud!
I look back at the few years in my life and I imagine what it would have been like to NOT have gone through what I did to become the person I am today. Mistreated. Abused.
Love is love “Gender doesn’t define love.” Why is it people judge what they don’t understand? Homo, faggot, dyke, queer! Out of all the pain we mostly hold in fear. We endure and we take all we can.
Everyone Has Their Story, So Here's Mine...
Love is us Sometimes i think words have difference definitions because love is you. When i look in your eyes its like im on vacation sitting by the pool like your eyes are blue.
I rather be called handsome than beautiful I rather be called he than she And i rather you say his than hers Not miss but sir you don't know how it feels How it feels to feel this hurt
I am free. free to fly free to cry I am not bound by earthly treasures nor do i give a second thought to those who fight with fists and fall to pleasures I do not, will not
This is my song! I've realized I waited way too long This is the story my voice tells I speak the words out loud No one hears my act I paint the blood of the dead boy He walks around, but people don't see
There are people under the steeple Who can’t keep their eyes off the peep-hole. Why are their minds so weak and feeble? It’s misunderstood, so deem it evil. Mr. Man sits in Congress so regal,
I’m surprised I passed kindergarten I couldn’t help but to graffiti outside the hetero-gender defined lines Like an awkward categorization you attempted to force into a Venn diagram I never really overlapped
She said "Some people will never understand the kind of superpower it takes for some people to just walk outside" and some people will never understand the stregnth it takes to walk out they're own Closet doors.