The Need for Change


Desperately wanting to be who I should have been born,
I hate the femininity. I hate the appearance.
The idea of my body creating potential life each month
Disgusts me. I think it is a beautiful process, but not for me.
Poetry makes me feel like I actually belong somewhere, but it
Doesn't complete the longing urge of drastic metamorphosis.
I go to the bathroom and all I see is an unknown person
Greeting me with a fraudulent smile and counterfeit cosmetics,
Breasts that are easily hidden behind cloth.
Never talks about what is hidden below the belt,
But has no choice to talk about it to the one who holds
The iatrical history.
The short hair and the looks of masculinity are only the
Beginning, but not enough to not hate her still.
Pushing her closer and closer to the edge, she feels
Like she should just give up the fight and greet death before
He greets her first.The person I see in the mirror makes me want to
Regurgitate all of the execration I swallow down about myself.
The person I should have been to begin with is slowly
And painfully blooming into a daffodil in late spring.
She is not wanted at all, nowhere. I lie about how much I love her
Just to make others content that I am not hurting,
When deep down inside I am just becoming a
Cadaverous thing lying in a pit of falsehood.
Chase will one day be the sovereign, he will one day finally be
happy, and he will one day be able to veraciously love. himself.

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