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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
If I could only have been with you
would have made your dreams come true
if only you had allowed me to
there are no limits to what I'd do

I'd shave my head for you
fall down dead for you
swing the lead for you
keep things unsaid for you
make up my bed for you
bake gluten free bread for you

tell big lies for you
be despised for you
have only eyes for you
criticise for you
create surprise for you
wear disguise for you

give protection for you
take direction for you
lose connection for you
keep affection for you
bear inspection for you
shun perfection for you

would do anything at all for you
would do anything you want me to
would do nothing to make you blue
if I could only have been with you

Cynthia Pauline Jones, 3/11/13
I make no demands of you
for love makes no demands
I give to you what love
demands of me
There was a time when I might
have made demands
and you might have responded
as on our first meeting
or at that later time
when I joked about kidnapping
and you said "yes please"
because you have that side
it's something I recognise
perhaps you do not yet
need to let her out
perhaps you never will
but if you do one day
then I hope you find
one who can guide you
or perhaps the day will come
when your guide appears
unbidden, perhaps inconveniently
but reaches within
touches her and bids her wake
when that happens
there is no denying of truth
just acceptance and knowing
that you are truly home
in the place where you belong

Cynthia Pauline Jones 19/1/2014
The love whose name
I dare not speak
lest I implicate her
lest I expose
that she once professed
to love me too
the love who for me
will last forever
she loves another
and we can never be
can never share all
yet we share secrets
that burn the soul
secrets I cannot confess
for her sake alone
yet that I would shout
loudly from every
rooftop and mountain
and be proud to own
secrets that I hope
she will one day
find the strength
to confess too
yet I fear she will
instead put them safely
inside that box
she labels 'the past'
and keeps locked up
nailed tight shut
even to herself

Cynthia Pauline Jones 11/11/13
You said you'd find a way
to be mine one happy day
I can't tell if you meant it
or said it just for play

I know that you have
no motivation any more
if indeed you ever had
to make your way to my door

All the words in my head
won't get you into my bed
despite the love in my heart
we'll always be apart

Cynthia Pauline Jones 15/10/2013
I've reached the conclusion
that I'm not equipped
for breaking down another's walls
so you have to step forward
and give me some help
if you want me to make them fall

Cynthia Pauline Jones 10/10/2013
Don't ever mess with a moose
a half ton of meat on the loose
they demolish your truck
and they don't give a ****
don't ever mess with a moose

Cynthia Pauline Jones 2012
Bigender
Pansexual
Asexual
Gay
Lesbian
Cisgender
Transgender
Agen­der

And many more
Labels racing through
My head
I can't even think straight
Or let alone be straight

I once thought pansexual
But I don't prefer physical interaction
Maybe bisexual?
But I like anyone and
Everyone

Asexual?
I've gotten off
I just don't prefer to
Shutting myself off
Is something I can do

Female and male stereo types
But I fit neither one
Sometimes I'm more of a man
Than my brothers could ever be
And sometimes I am more girly

All these labels
And I'm so confused
Does anyone really know?
Maybe I don't fit
Any labels

Maybe I'm just
Me
This is a poem of anger
this is a poem of grief
this is a poem for those
to whom death was the only relief
from the words of abuse
from attitudes of shame
from the spittle and curses
from the taking of blame
from the raining of blows
from fists and boots and rocks
from the penetrating blades
that **** like sharpened *****
from the bullets and blasts
that tear flesh apart
from the tearing of veils
from the hammers and nails
this is a poem of outrage
this is a poem of pain
this is a poem to honour
those who were never to blame

Cynthia Pauline Jones 20/11/13
For International Transgender Day of Remembrance
I wrote this on 20th November 2013 and on the same evening this poem became my first ever public reading of my work. Each year, trans* people and allies gather on that date to observe International Transgender Day Of Remembrance (TDOR) where the names are read of all those who have been notified as having lost their lives as the result of transphobic violence during the preceding year. In 2013, over 250 names were read and it is thought that the true number is much greater. Suicides (trans* people have by far the highest suicide rates of any sector of society) are not included in the names read, though they outnumber those directly murdered many times over.
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