10:30pm
Weather’s colder than I thought
Where is my Über?

I'm here sitting
alone,
the smell of coffee runs through
my veins,
some music i probably will forget
in a few years arguing with
the thought of you,

But I'm here,
I'm here,
writing about what's happening

pretty boring huh?

i call myself a poet
but i can't use high metaphors,

i call myself a poet
but i can't describe fully
how you make me feel

i call myself a poet

but what am i?

I'm just a kid
scared of life
finding new ways to cope
searching for someone to love,
desperate,
not holding unto my dreams
how can i choose with my mind
what's right for the heart to choose.

and you see?
don't you see?

don't worry i can't either

i can't see how great i am
i can't see how other people see me
i wish i could.

i want to believe this was a dream
or
a nightmare at that.

But at last.
I'm here wishing that in another life
i could be with you,
or
maybe in other deaths,

i crave your touch,
i crave you..
with coffee waking up my senses
like a kid in summer waking up early
to go play with his friends.

i wish things were different,
so i wouldn't have to wish.

I walk the halls and glance at everyone I see,
The girls who are hurrying to the bathroom to fix their makeup,
And the boys who check them out as they walk by.

Is there anyone else here who can't go to the bathroom, because I swear to God just the thought of it gives me a small panic attack.
Is there anyone else here who looks down and is disappointed everyday because I am small, chesty and my face is far too round.

I never check out the girls, nor do I run to the bathroom to fix myself,
I walk and look at how much I wish I was one of the guys,
Flat chested, tall, lean and not having to wake up 5 extra minutes to put on a binder.
Never hating that their voice along with their round face will have others calling them "She" for their whole life.

Never will they come home with aching ribs,
and feel the stab of being misgendered.
Never will they be told "but you still look like a girl,"
Even though you are trying so hard that you feel your mind wearing thin.
Why can't I just be what they want me to be?