My own family mocks my creations
With my patience wearing thin
I cut the delicate fabric
And wait to sew it back up again
And I repeat these actions
It's an endless battle
Between myself and my family
*Can they see the thread?
Can they see the patterns I've created?

"Stay away from others
You're too fragile
They'll break you apart"
But that's something you've done from the start
"Wear ballroom attire, and go on display
Everyone will see
Your beauty right away"
I'm not a toy you can collect
I'm not something you can play with,
Something you can dress
Mom leave me alone
*I'm not your porcelain doll

I look into the mirror, not wanting to see.
Who I am, but what I could be.
A girl to the world, a boy at heart.
A girl from the womb, a boy from the start.

"Be proud of who you are"
That's what they say.
But how can I be proud,
When  my body causes me dismay?

"You'll never be a boy."
They shout at me.
"Then I'll never be happy."
I guess it's meant to be.

I come to my room,
my chest stained red.
I cut myself open,
just to see the dead ends.

For I still have a heart,
and I still have a soul.
But i'll never be a boy.
That's all I've been told.