Death, It's dark.
Death, It happens to everything.
Death, It makes me feel alive.
Death, It makes my bloodlust boil.
Death, It's not sad, it is poetic.

Dysphoria, it wraps and weaves but plunges me like a knife,
Dysphoria, it's like a big useless chest binder that tightens around your self-esteem.
Dysphoria, It is my best friend, but I smile in joy when it briefly leaves.
Dysphoria, My thighs, my chest, my hair, my jaw, my eyes and my smile write 'Her' 'She' 'Female' Girl'.

                                  Dysphoria, I'm always alone.

Miniature Cows
Miniature, you might not see it.
  Realistic, you might mistake it.
   Creative, how can anyone make it?
     Fast and slow, can you see it's patterns?
      Brown, black and white, yet no blues and blonde.
       Can you see the light or are you stuck in the eventide?

2. Cows in the field
The cows are dancing in the field, the green grass below their feet. "Moo!" the cows cry in joy, with the birds flying in the electric, light blue sky. 'Why can't I fly?' thought one cow, who was stuck on the ground forever and more. But this cow is sure about one thing, They can fly, but only in dreams.

Never give up;
My hands are shaking, bruises mark them
My legs are numb, numb with no feeling
My wet cheeks feel like I can swim in them
My eyes cry more tears then the sea
Yet I tell myself
“Never give up”.
A hand swings, like a bird for prey
It collides with my pale skin, SMACK!
More, more come down like rain to the ground
Smack! Crash!
Then they stop and the doors open
Then they close
‘Never give up’ I whisper.
Time flies slowly, like blood dripping from a wound
Slowly. Time is never on my side.
Then again, nothing is.
I have no shoulder to cry on,
I do not have the feeling of love in my heart.
I have no friends,
But still, I tell myself to go on,
With only the words ;
“Never give up”.