she no longer wakes up in the morning
to look in the mirror and try to
convince herself and the world
that she's still a girl

they stopped waking up in the morning and looking in the mirror trying to convince . .
no prove that they're identity
isn't up for debate

he started waking up in the morning
to look at himself in the mirror to try to convince . .
no prove . .
no reassure himself that he is
exactly who he says

i wake up every morning and
I go to the mirror and try to convince . .
no prove . .
no reassure . .
no state that I am
a man and nobody can say otherwise

She was like a cup of coffee.
A plain, black, cup of coffee.
She kept the world awake.

Her personality was warm,
But she had a bitter aftertaste.

the fear of the future,
devours me
it eats me whole,
and shows me no mercy

I lie awake at night,
the moonlight softly showing
through my blinds,
and am stirred by the thought
of the future

when I come out to my family,
what will happen?

will they try to beat it out of me,
will they kick me to the curb,
or will they stand by my side,
waving a flag in pride?

what will the future hold?

forty-eight hours is a long time to wear a binder,
and my ribs are screaming for mercy,
for a break from the compression and lack of mobility.
but it's not that easy.

sometimes i'd rather face the pain,
than face the fact that i am female.
these weights on my chest,
drag me to the ground.
i break down.

i feel locked in my body,
and all i want to do is break free.
nobody should feel the need to shower in the dark,
because the reality of their body is too much for them.
it shouldn't be this way

and i know i shouldn't compare myself to people,
but i cannot stop thinking,
'what if i were cis'.
i think of how much easier everything would be.
i wouldn't have to worry over how long i've been wearing my binder,
or if i pass,

i wouldn't have to worry about turning eighteen,
knowing i will be homeless.
but instead, my mother would celebrate her baby,
becoming a "legal adult."

forty-eight hours wouldn't be a worrying statement,
just another frame of time,
it wouldn't reflect on my self-care routines,
or lack thereof

it'd just be forty-eight hours.