The cold stone planted in the ground.
The wet grass surrounding the freshly dug area.
The soft dirt traveling six feet deep, and deeper.
The howling wind wanting to brush my face, but feeling nothing.
The cries of others wishing they could wake me from my eternal slumber.
The date of my first day carved indefinitely.
The date of my final day is placed beside it.
The deadname wrongly given, engraved eternally but never having sounded quite right.
The word ‘Daughter’ lasting forever, but never having felt like it quite fit.
My worst fear is to die with the wrong name on my tombstone.
My worst fear is to be buried and remembered wrong.
To not be remembered as me.

I love you.
I trust you.
You say.
You say I'm your daughter.
You say I'm broken.
You say I am ill.
You say I'm sinning.
You say I'm wrong.
I say.
I say I'm your son.
I say I'm better than ever.
I say I'm perfectly fine.
I say I'm not religious.
I say I'm right.
But it doesn't matter what I say,
You never listen.
You lecture.
I love you.
You say you love me unconditionally.
But this kind of love is conditional.

Look around
Blue skys
Blue seas
Blue eyes
Blue trees
Blue you
Blue me
Blue hue
Blue tea
Blue rose
Blue book
Blue clothes
Blue look
Look around
Color
More than one color
That is what makes life
Color
More than blue
More than you
Look around

What is gender?
What is a girl?
What is a boy?
What makes these people different?
What is pink?
What is blue?
What makes these colors different?
What is it?
Clothes?
Style?
Hair?
Chests?
Pants?
Skirts?
Dresses?
Suits?
­What makes these people different?
You say:
‘Your chromosomes’
But what about ‘x’
What about ‘xxy’
What about ‘xyy’
What about ‘xxxy’
What do you say about these?
Someones genitalia doesn't make them
Someone's chromosomes doesn't make them
What makes a person a person
Is the person.