It's only just a dream.
Tomorrow is soon.
You are worth it.
Please don't mark up your skin.
You are beautiful.
You can do it.
I believe in you.
I love you, Lucas.

I liked it when you used me,
because when you did I felt loved.
I liked it when you yelled at me,
because I deserved it.
I like it when you pretended to care,
because it filled me with temporary happiness.

I can't speak
Because if I do
those unsteady words will escape my mouth
And hurt everyone
Breaking their hearts
silencing me.
You see,
the words I do not want to escape my mouth is
"I don't wanna be here anymore."

Last month.
My mother told me.
On our way to my first checkup for my meds.
When I relapsed.
She told me that my cuts will turn to scars.
I realized.
My battle wounds are here to stay.
-
My battle wounds tell a story,
A story of betrayal.
A story of being led on.
A story of drunk parents.
A story of pain.
A story of choosing to almost give into dying.
A story of continuing to move on.
A story of my life.

It took me seven years
to realise
the words in my mind
were too deep for
my mouth to dig up
I thought it was easier
to open my skin
and let the truth
pour down my arms

It took me seven years
to realise
nobody should be allowed
to touch parts
of your home
or hold pieces  
of your heart
that you don't yet understand

It took me seven years
to realise
I will wear these scars
forever
I'll carry them
through every smile
every kiss
every concerned gaze
I'll carry them
to my grave

It took me seven years
to realise
the pain carved
into the walls
of my castle
etchings of
attempting to disappear
are not a story of weakness
but a tale of
how I survived

My skin doesn't feel right
it doesn't feel right to breathe.
It doesn't feel right to wear a dress.
It doesn't feel right what in the mirror, I see.
This body doesn't belong to me.
These lips are not mine.
The luscious hair I cut off, still not mine.
My grandmother calls me two-spirit.
I call myself an error.
Because you see,
I am a boy.
Stuck in a girl's body.

We transgenders are not *****,
nor *******.
We transgenders are not tools,
nor autistic or *******.
It is not funny to spit at us.
Or stick notes on our back.
It is not funny to misgender us,
or harass and assault.
It is like we are a fish out of water.
Watching everyone swim.
As we suffocate and die.
See, we transgenders are just like you.
And you see,
We all speak it.
The truth.