genderqueerwriter
16/FTM/USA
Who am I? / I'm the girl who hates herself / And the boy who will not eat. / A kid with no one to turn to, / Just another stranger on the street. / I'm a kid with a keyboard, / And poems in their head; / I'm a kid with a story to tell, / Before I end up dead.
We are trapped in closets that are more like coffins
Every breath a game of Russian roulette, wondering which will be our last.
Each step outside a bullet in the chamber,
Every person another pull of the trigger,
And one day they will line up,
For one, final, shot.
By the time they turn 20, 1 in 3 Trans people will have attempted suicide,
And those are only the ones who make it that far.
Out of 41% who try, 10% will succeed.
We want to go home but we don't have them anymore and maybe we never did.
More trans youths are accepted by oncoming traffic than by their parents,
The only hugs those from the rope around our necks.
Replacing love with pills and pain.
"If you want to **** yourself that bad, then just do it."
The average life span in America is 78.8 years young.
The average life span when you're trans is around 20 to 32,
Which means that I have lived more of my life than I have left,
And my friends are only just starting to live theirs.
Birthdays are just a count down to when the last blow will be struck.
1 in 12 of us will be murdered.
We are not safe
Bathrooms are ****** battlefields,
Not man enough, not woman enough,
Not enough.
Who can decide that the twisted flesh and gaping wounds that belong to our bodies hurt them more than it does us.
Half of us are dead before the last breath leaves our body,
Ghosts to our family and everyone else,
Only existing to be the punchline,
To a joke that we don't find funny.
My screams sound more like apologies,
And I'm choking on them.
They tell that my body is my home,
But home has never been safe for me,
Our lives are like nightmares that we can't wake up from,
And I'm just so tired at this point that I can barely find it in myself to care.
I think they've forgotten that we are human,
That if you cut me I bleed,
It's red, and it hurts.
Call me joke, call me lie, call me anything but my name!
Push me back in with all the other skeletons.
This closet is a coffin,
And I am 6 feet under.
Mar 21, 2020
Mar 21, 2020 at 6:31 PM UTC
Have you ever imagined kissing someone,
Bodies tangled so close that your edges blur,
And you forget where you end and they begin?
Chapped, bitten lips pressed together like puzzle pieces,
Completing each other for one moment,
Millennia compressed into the spaces between heartbeats.
Tandem pulses,
Breaths mingled,
Wrapped so tightly around each other that you leave bruises on souls.
Tasting the sweetness of each other's words of love.
Panting from breathtaking beauty and long kisses,
Giving everything and getting in return
Sep 26, 2019
Sep 26, 2019 at 6:14 AM UTC
Call me a monster enough times
And I will answer to it.
Call me a monster enough times,
And I will grow fangs and claws
I have been told that what I feel
Is not monstrous.
That I am a human.
But I still test my teeth in mirrors,
And keep my nails trimmed short.
No one loves a monster,
Not even the monster itself.
Sep 26, 2019
Sep 26, 2019 at 12:36 AM UTC
They say 'are you okay?'
But what they mean to ask is,
Are you happy,
Or at least faking enough,
To be normal.
Are you adequate,
Or at least silent enough,
To be fine.
Are you okay.
Or at least tired enough,
To be 'okay.'
Sep 26, 2019
Sep 26, 2019 at 12:34 AM UTC
How do I love you when
Anxiety festers in every thought.
How do I love you when
Most days I can't even feel.
How do I love you when
Every movement leaves me shattered.
How do I love you when
Sometimes I can't get out of bed.
How do I love you when
Going a day without crying is a victory.
How do I love you when
My own brain whispers that I am not worth it.
How do I love you when
I can't even love myself.
Feb 21, 2019
Feb 21, 2019 at 2:44 PM UTC
I'm writing a poem to my therapist
To tell her what I cant say.
To explain the emptiness that I feel,
The pain I feel everyday.
I'm writing a poem to my therapist
To tell her what I cant say.
To explain my hatred for myself,
The way that nothing feels okay.
I'm writing a poem to my therapist
To tell her what I cant say.
To explain my missing motivation,
The way I can't do anything any way.
I wrote a poem to my therapist
To tell her what I couldn't say.
To explain the twists of my mind,
The truth behind the facade I portray.
Jan 4, 2019
Jan 4, 2019 at 12:07 PM UTC
People fall.
They fall in love:
And they fall out.
They fall asleep,
And they fall for lies.
They fall into luck,
Or fall out with friends
And they fall off roofs.
But sometimes;
Sometimes, they jump.
And isn't that funny
Nov 27, 2018
Nov 27, 2018 at 9:00 PM UTC
The turkeys are gone
Empty fields,
Once full of birds,
Now with empty plucked skin.
The turkeys are gone,
The turkeys are gone.
Empty chairs,
Around tables full of plates
With only remnants of their plenty.
Doors open in an empty house,
Once full of laughter,
Now silent.
The turkeys are gone
Nov 27, 2018
Nov 27, 2018 at 3:42 PM UTC
I'm fine
But I'm hurting
I'm fine
But I'm bleeding
I'm fine
But I'm crying
I'm fine
But I'm dying
I'm fine
But I'm lying
Nov 27, 2018
Nov 27, 2018 at 12:01 PM UTC
My life's in vain
I'm going insane,
And I can't help feeling sad
I'm going bonkers,
I've fell off my rocker,
And I'm completely, utterly mad
Caught in confusion,
My minds a delusion,
And in the shadows I hide
My life's a mistake,
Filled with things that I break,
No matter how hard I tried
I'm not doing so well,
I'm going through hell,
They ignored my hapless pleas
I fell to the ground,
And wept without sound
They left my down on my knees
Away I was tossed,
And now I'm so lost,
I feel so wonderfully dumb
I cried my tears,
And I faced my fears,
But everything now is just numb
2 a.m knows my woes,
And as a write this prose,
A tear slides down my cheek
A sob breaks free,
And I whimper softly,
That I'm so pathetic and weak
My skin is stained,
From the blood that I drained,
From my wrist in a thin little line
I perfect a disguise,
With a smile full of lies
And everyone thought I was fine
My mind's in a whirl
The demon gave a slow curl
Of his bony skeletal finger
He crept up to me,
And smiled nastily,
"You'd be prettier if you were much thinner"
I smiled a fake smile,
And held on, for a while,
but my life was filled with strife
My blood was red,
And mixed with tears that I shed,
Left alone in the room with a knife
So I put on a mask,
and completed the task,
I placed the gun to my head
I curled my finger,
And pulled the trigger,
And In the end I was dead
Nov 26, 2018
Nov 26, 2018 at 3:00 PM UTC