I always thought I had a horrific way with words, but put a pen in my hand and I'll write feelings I bottled up since a child.
I can't tell you why I love you with spoken words, but I have written endless late night poems just about how much I love your eyes.
I can't focus on repetitive work that is done in a math class for 30 minutes, but I'd sign up for a 3 hour English class in a heart beat.
I don't think all writers are sad, and always have some deeper meaning to everything they say, some are metaphoric, and some like to be blunt.
I, myself tend to use metaphors rather than being blunt because they sound so much better in my opinion.
I think everything sounds more meaning full in a stanza rather than a paragraph, and a book sometimes means more than a movie.
I guess I'm just a writer.

My eyes are sore,
and I wish I could have done more.
                My body feels numb,
                And I wish the tears would just come.
                                       My life is in a constant whirl,
                                      And I wish I could have given you the world.
                                                        Every second my heart breaks,
                                                       And I wish my mind wouldn't ache.
                                    I haven't gotten more then three hours of sleep in two weeks,
                                   And I wish I could sleep instead of wiping tears off my cheeks.

And at night I can't stop myself from thinking back to when I didn't have a panic attack nearly every night.
To when I honestly believed that my future was bright
To when I didn't count calories and wish I was just skin and bone
To when I didn't have shaky hands and my palms didn't get sweaty by simply walking into a classroom alone.

But now at night I lay on my bed
Trying to escape the things in my head

I walk the halls and glance at everyone I see,
The girls who are hurrying to the bathroom to fix their makeup,
And the boys who check them out as they walk by.

Is there anyone else here who can't go to the bathroom, because I swear to God just the thought of it gives me a small panic attack.
Is there anyone else here who looks down and is disappointed everyday because I am small, chesty and my face is far too round.

I never check out the girls, nor do I run to the bathroom to fix myself,
I walk and look at how much I wish I was one of the guys,
Flat chested, tall, lean and not having to wake up 5 extra minutes to put on a binder.
Never hating that their voice along with their round face will have others calling them "She" for their whole life.

Never will they come home with aching ribs,
and feel the stab of being misgendered.
Never will they be told "but you still look like a girl,"
Even though you are trying so hard that you feel your mind wearing thin.
Why can't I just be what they want me to be?

It's been ten months since the last time we talked,
         And I sit here wondering why I still give a ****.
I know that you never cared,
         And I'm stupid to think you ever did.