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 Sep 2015 Cody Al
Leo-chan
Day by day I wonder what it would have been like if I came out more girly and more of what my family expected and how life would be so much easier that way. But yet I wasn't, I grieve everyday because in my mind I know what I want to be and I know who I want to be but reality has won the war so far by making my appearance say other wise. Its not easy. I try to tell myself "Do it. They'll still love you" or "if they can except me as gay they can except me as transgender" but deep down I feel so bad for my family.  I know they're just waiting for me to say " just kidding" but I'm not. I want to leave and never come back so I won't hurt my family, but its so hard knowing they need you. But its not the real me.
Every since I can remember I have thought it was a trap. .
I remember my grandpa teaching me how to shave with the cap on the razor, I just went through the motions ..
Playing in the dirt and plowing the field made me happy.
I ran around the house in long shorts and no shirt
My hair was never to be fixed up
You never would catch me in a dress if I could help it .
Bows were never the things I wanted to wear
Once I started to develop I was told to wear a shirt at home, I couldn't understand it.
I just wanted to be like my brother.
There is just the thing, everyone wanted me to be more like my sister. .
For a few short dreadful years I had to play my role as a girl.
Why I asked myself why did this happen to me?
Would I ever get to be who I was supposed to be?
How could this be?.
What did I do to deserve this?
Could I fix this if I try?
But Mama I'm not attracted to a guy I would say
She would be furious all I knew was I could try to make her better.
I just had no emotion for quite some time.
Only few selects got me through that rough time.
But what is it, why did this happen to me?
I wasn't switched at birth, but simply didn't develop right.
I'm missing some of my parts, you gave me the wrong ones.
These arent what feels right and it hurts, why do people stare?
Please sir, No sir, Thank you sir, yes it's joy everytime I hear it, but why can't it always be those?
Is it really to hard to have given them 2 sons and 1 daughter, then it could of been she's just the favorite because she's a girl.
Why couldn't you have made me who I was meant to be?.
The guy that I know I really am, the guy who treats woman with respect, the guy who is kind and polite,  the guy who has manners when the time is right, the guy who repects all who repects him, the guy who has a sensetive side, the guy who is just one of guys, the guy who all girls wish they had ( yes I have been told this many of times) , the guy who always finished last due to a big factor of all the parts being wrong.
Thankfully I found the girl who would love me for who I am no matter the luggage I carry.

Hurting On The Inside,
The perfect guy trapped in a female body.
 Sep 2015 Cody Al
Skypath
Sickness
 Sep 2015 Cody Al
Skypath
Your fingers pull at shower-soft hair
Getting longer but not too long
Your eyes are dry but so is your tongue
Because you can’t find it in you to cry

Your chest is tight but it’s not the shirt you wear
It’s your ribs closing in on your lungs.
Your insides are crushed beneath the weight of their words
Pronouns buried like landmines beneath your skin
There’s a sickness inside you
Gnawing on your bones
Black tar sticky in your stomach
A violence pressing against your organs

You’ll feel better when you’ve changed your body
When your voice is deep and there’s hair on your jaw
You can take your shirt off at the beach
And flirt with girls at the coffee shop

Until then there’s no one who can understand
No one to get why you stand before the mirror
Running your hands over your flattened chest
Or practice walking like there’s something between your legs

No one asks why you’re not happy with cancer
Because no one is happy with cancer
But no one understands that your dysphoria
Is a sickness
And its terminal
 Sep 2015 Cody Al
Maxwell
This is the story my body tells...
A story of struggles marked with scars.
A page of freckles from the sun kissing my skin.
Cracks and snaps from the past breaking me down.
Every breath tells my body that my binder is there.
My body tells what I was born as but is becoming what I am.
In a mirror my body shows eyes that have seen so much.
Lips that have spoken many regrets but many accomplishments.
Ears that have heard too much but sometimes not enough.
In a mirror my body tells a deep story.
My stomach houses the scar from a box too sharp.
My fingers grasp the rope so tight that keeps me above the water.
My body tells a story but my mind a deep tale.
At a group I go to we had four writing prompts. This was the first one, it was if your body tells a story what would it be?
 Sep 2015 Cody Al
Adriean New
For years of feeling trapped.
For years in hiding.
For years of making everyone else happy.
I quit.

I'm breaking open.
I'm busting my shell to pieces.
I'm tearing the walls down for good.
For me.

I cut my hair.
I dressed how I wanted.
I am who I am.
For me.

But I'm still trapped.
But I'm still in hiding.
But I'm still not me.
I'm lost.

With these breast.
With this voice.
With this body.
I'm not me.

My *** won't define me.
My looks won't save me.
My voice will hurt me.
I need to change.

I'm forgetting society's idea of "normal."
I'm not a 'princess,' I'm a 'prince.'
I'm going to be happy.

Trans.

No more pain.
No more hiding.
No more being scared.
I'm human too. I belong too. I deserve to be happy,
just like everyone else
 Sep 2015 Cody Al
Jay G
Purple
 Sep 2015 Cody Al
Jay G
I saw someone, two grades older than me in the halls with a purple shirt.
He was tall and had a huge grin and a loud laugh.
I heard the boy in the purple shirt had an B in Spanish
And a D in chemistry
And an A in foreplay.
I thought maybe he's had more than one girlfriend in the past few weeks.
At school he tells me he likes my shirt. Then turns around and tells another girl he likes her ***.
I realized then I wanted to be him. Because the girl was probably going to **** him, and not me.
What does he have that I don't.
Chin fuzz, a reverberating voice, broad shoulders, a ****.
That night I did one hundred push ups. That night I cried for one hundred minutes.
And slept for what seemed like one hundred hours.
When my morning comes my chest aches. When my morning comes my chest is still chesty.
When his morning comes his chest is occupied by a girl's head.
When his morning comes he let's go of a morning *** on his purple shirt.
On his purple sheets.
On the girl's purple cheeks.
He remembers someone, she is two grades younger than him.
She is small and has sad lips and a quiet sigh.
She has an F in math, and an F in history, and an F in foreplay.
He told her he liked her shirt, because he really did, because it wasn't purple, because it wasn't his, because it made her look strong. It made her look like a man. He then realized that he liked the color blue better, and liked the way it looked on her.
This wasn't meant to be good. It's just thoughts.
 Sep 2015 Cody Al
Maxwell
I Hear You
 Sep 2015 Cody Al
Maxwell
What my body needs to say...
"Relax, things won't always be this way."
"...But what if they are?"
"Then we get through it. Our feet still walk where we need to go, our eyes still see the sun, our ears still listen and hear the positivity above the hate...relax, our skin feels the sun and the touch or him, and our lips can still smile. I promise, I'm becoming you just give me some more time. These scars will fade and become a distant memory but our journey will not end. You're okay, we're okay.. just hold on a little longer."
My prompt was to write about what you need to hear from your body or to write a different ending for your body's story
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