Put me on display,
Like I'm a work of Art in a museum.
I want criticism,
I want to know what to be,
so I can be good enough.

"Trans kids don't have it any worse, it's no harder than what normal people through."

You're right, we have it just like you... Though let me give you and insight of my week

It's not any harder but, when I go to give a compliment to a lass, 9 times out of 10 she will turn to my friend and say, "what's their gender?"

It's not hard  but, when I'm in public, I can't go to the bathroom unless there is a unisex bathroom. Because my family is scared I will get beaten no matter which restroom I chose.

It's not hard but, I am required in certain school functions to have the school force me in a dress, because that's what society believes is correct.

Is not hard but, when my girlfriend takes me home to her parents... I have to pray that they don't take one look at me, and disapprove of our relationship, because I'm a "real guy".

It's not hard but, after mix up with pronouns people will call me an it. Just the desk that I'm using to bear down to write this poem on. It's inanimate, it has no feelings, right?

It's not any harder but, I keep the question "are you sure you're not jus gay?" From random people I don't even know

It's not hard but I, have to hope that class peer I'm paired up with doesn't look down upon people of my community so I don't get death threats.

It's not hard but, I cannot go a day without the coach of my team preaching to my teammates to stop encouraging my immature behavior, that I'm just a female and that's all I'll ever be. To stop using my pronouns.  

It's not hard but, my foster family tried to convert me to the "correct way of life"

It's not hard but, my father abused me for coming out to him.

Whichever parent told me "sticks and stones will break my bones and words will never hurt me" is ******* misguided.
Because words are one of the most destructive weapons that I've ever faced.
Though do you know why words can be the most painful weapon?
Because words can ease the curiosity that the human mind loves to conjure up.
Words can lift a person up, make them feel ecstatic.
Though on the polar end.
The words a person has one said
Can be the reason an individual wants whiskey in their veins instead of blood cell,
Every **** word,
Can echo in a person head.
Haunting them.
Causing the individual to tear themself apart

I began my year with wanting to be your New Years kiss,  funny how that's how it's ending too.

Let me have another night with you.
I don't even want to have ***,
I just want to wake up next to you.
I want to hear your sleepy voice.
I want to tell you you're beautiful,
Every. Single. Morning.

I wanna binge watch Netflix shows,
And lay in bed with you all day.
I want to give you forehead kisses,
And see-you-later hugs (because I know you hate saying goodbye).
I want to wake up with you in my arms,
And let you fall back asleep in them at the end of the day.
I want to hear your sleepy voice tell me you like me,
That you really really like me.

I want you to mean it.
I want you to say you're falling too.
I want you to understand how scared I am.
I want you to know it feels so right.
I want you to kiss me again and leave me breathless.
I want you to miss me too.
I want you to want me.
I want you.
*Only you.

My stomach wants to eat itself because it's hungry for your touch.
My ears don't want to hear another word unless it slips out of your mouth.
My mouth doesn't want to move unless your lips are guiding it.
My eyes are tired of crying and are waiting on you to come wipe the tears away and hear the comfort of you saying "it's okay."
My heart doesn't want to beat anymore because my mind is telling it you're gone..

Today
I am...                                                                                            I am but
                                                                                                       a shadow,
of who I was. A broken, grey thing.
                                                                                                     a voiceless
thing, miming lyric and ****** rhyme,
A broken watch that's keeping time
and the watch has hands, but it's
                                                                                                     faceless
and in the broken wiry strands, I'm
                                                                                                    hidden,
waiting to stop time, and rewind
back to the moment when you shared my misery.
But you broke free,
and now you mock me.
Your laughing life mocks me, leaves me
                                                                                                    raging,
and vainly                                                                                  hunting
How dare you be a beautiful something,
and leave me behind to be this ugly
                                                                                                    nothing.