A subtle panic like a slow death creeps, the anxiety within me, for here's where it sleeps.
Quietly loud enough to cover the sound, of the glassware you've thrown, now strewn all around.
Rocking all positive lullaby's to sleep, ensuring all menacing thoughts I'm to keep.
It's adept like the teen who's stayed out beyond curfew, sneaks in armed with oceans with which it will drown you.
All because of the lies that were said, went in through your ears and lived in your head.
The life you once had held aloft like a prize, you breathe your last breath and then close your eyes.

Poetry by Kaydee.

My name is Sara, a transgender chick
Wanted a *****, was given a ****
I hide it in knickers of satin and lace
before sitting down to make-up my face,
Next the prosthetics, I'm using two bits.
Stuck to my chest, they'll do as my ****
Now for my legs I'll put on false tan,
I wouldn't do this if I were a man
Alternative nights, a t-girl delights
to sit on her bed and pull on new tights.
I'll put on a dress, a cute one no less.
Then for my shoes, high heels I choose
A sandal style shoe as every girl knows
not only looks cute, they'll show painted toes
A bit of eyeliner, eyebrow definer,
lipstick and blush, I'm now looking lush.
I stand in the mirror all ready to go,
there's only one question I just have to know.
"Does my *** look big in this?"

Poetry by Kaydee.