Drowning, she says she’s drowning in a love that I have caused…
what I failed to realize is that I had been leading not only her on but my heart as well.
I’m screaming from the inside out and nothing seems to hear my cry for help.
Disparity reeks on this skin that covers my human body, but my spirit floats beside of the other girl…
The one who should be the only girl.
Instead I took the knife and cut and cut across my skin trying to find somewhere to bury the love that the other girl had given to me but when I did…
It only sprouted and grew into a tree as sturdy as I could ever be. Intimidating, the tree that was originally built to protect me from the others love…
It has now overtaken my shadow and buried me instead of I burying it. The phrase eat your heart out rages throughout my head.
I hear it over and over again wishing at times it was dead to me but all I can see is how my heart is literally eating its self away.
I scream, and scream and cry… I try and let the feelings die, but they remain.
I'm slowly killing myself and I'm screaming out and nobody hears... I'm always surrounded by the people who "love" me but not by the one who loved me first and it's killing me.
I literally feel my chest compress against my shirt, the shirt I wear oh so baggy to try and escape my chest from pressing against it so that my heart is even more compressed...
I try and try but I can't get out of this thing they call being depressed.
It isn't depression it's a mental suicide...
Taking a gun, and loading up the memories in the chamber only to pull the trigger and watch as everything I’ve worked so hard to forget spills over top of me as if it were the oceans high tide…
violent but oh so beautiful, and it never dies… it leaves momentarily only to return just as strong as it was before.

I'm slowly killing myself and I'm screaming out and nobody hears...
I'm always surrounded by the people who "love" me
but not by the ones who loved me first and it's killing me.
I literally feel my chest compress against my shirt, the shirt I wear oh so baggy to try and escape my chest from pressing against it so that my heart is even more compressed...
I try and try but I can't get out of this thing they call being depressed.
It isn't depression it's a mental suicide...

the memories are flooding in
tears cover her pillow, and her cheeks
she's gone down, deep
too far in her past... gone
she tries to lift her head only to have a memory remind her she isn't allowed to feel the happiness she once possessed
she caused herself pain and misery
"lies" that costed her everything
she could have just held on, bit her tongue and dealt with it... but she let go
the drinking and the drugs took her away from the only thing she knew
but yet drowned her sorrow and helped her forget her surroundings as she so wished and begged her mind to do... it just wasn't enough
now she sits in a room... with memories as her drug
addicted to the pain she's caused herself unable to return
maybe... just maybe she soon will learn how to do what the liquor and drugs did with the memories...
fade away.

A metaphor… love is a metaphor to everything of beauty. I found my metaphor in her arms. Her not a he and this is the things that we as human beings don’t comprehend. Love owns no gender, love owns no rules. We’ve been taught through life that there are certain kinds of people who shouldn’t be accepted when in reality we all are the same. Who I have sleeping in my bed in my arms at night owns the right to be who they are not who the world expects them to be. I found my metaphor my love. She opened a door to my heart that I thought only I had the key to when in all truth… I owned the spare she has the original. I was placed in a world where so many told me I had no place in being because my he was a she. My love owns no gender only a one person deal her name slips off of my tongue onto my pillow at night as I dream of the day I can kiss her in public and the stares will melt into a standing ovation… a day that I soon hope will come. Her heart owns mine, nothing in this world could take that from us. Only father time. We don’t know when or how we will die but I do know that I will find my peace by her side. When she dies it will be the most beautiful thing because nobody has ever died with their heart still beating… but this girl when she dies she will be alive within my chest, within this thing she calls hers. I am a girl and she is a girl but together we are the world. Society puts a warrant on the heads of the innocent who only try to find themselves in a way that they’re too simple to understand. Love is too complex these days… said nobody ever. Love is love no matter the gender no matter the *** recognition. You are who you are you love who your heart tells you to love. Changing to fit someone else’s perception of love or to be who they expect you to be is something I’ll never be able to do. I as a human being own the right to fight for something I love and believe in and that is her. I believe in her I love her I am a part of her as she is a part of me. Not even surgery could remove her from myself. We are merely two bodies with one soul and two separate minds. The problem with that is she constantly runs through mine. The world tells us that we are wrong… but something this wrong has never been so right. I’ll fight till the day I die to show the world our love through our eyes. Our love… something that no guy could supply. I have fallen for her, and fallen is a term used so loosely. This girl shoved me off the edge of a cliff only to jump as soon as she did, grabbing me by the arm rolling her sweet body underneath mine as we fell to our fate… she is my fate. It’s way too late for society to tell me that who I am who I love is something so wrong. They dispute our feelings for one another as if it’s debatable. My life is not a political meeting you cannot tell me who I can and cannot be with. Society sees it as just another “phase” I’m only here to show them that yes throughout our life’s we go through stages and phases that soon we grow out of only to find our final phase who defines us as who we are… I have found my final phase and society here is the big ******* to you because she’s the one who my final phase shall be spent with. Her touch is like no other, the way her hands slide over my body purely out of love. How she sees me in ways that I couldn’t possibly dream of seeing myself. Not only does she touch my body and make love to my body she undresses my thoughts as she watches them walk throughout my heart. She kisses the scars I’ve left on myself inside and out. The way I let society tell me who I was supposed to be, how listening to them almost destroyed me… took me to the point of no return no turning back now I have to take this wonderful weapon with a bullet in the chamber engraved with Katlyn the one who never came to know who she was in this cruel world… instead she was the gun and her heart was the bullet piercing through my mind and my soul creating the only thing that I’ve ever known. I found my metaphor in her eyes, the ones that shine so bright as they stare back into mine. I swear I can see the future through her beautiful deep brown eyes. I lose myself in them and pretend that I don’t know where I am going just to be able to stay a little longer. I long for the day when we’ll be united as one by the state and how we can declare our love to this world on paper… although it’s just a paper stating something we’ve known all along. I was born to find this girl in my life at a time where life was no longer my dreams where I had fallen to my knees begging for someone to take the knife away from me before I ended something so precious to someone I hadn’t had the chance to meet. In the same day I had taken that gun and placed it to my brains she sent me a message saying… I fell for you the first time I saw you. You tell me what you’d do… a girl you’ve had your eyes upon for so long and in your mind knowing you’d never be able to love the way that she so deserves messages you telling you that you are her future in this world… Society can let me bend over so they can press their lips to my sweet *** and kiss it firmly because this girl… this girl was born for me as I was for her. Kimberly is her name… and soon she’ll be my everlasting metaphor

A girl, a room a familiar song a familiar story. Little girl not even in a form of a woman, she hasn’t even grown into her period yet. Laying on the bed by herself crying biting her nails asking herself why… Her cry wasn’t heard her tears were silent why couldn’t they hear her cryin’ on the inside dying from the outside in… her wrists were clean… innocent. Time flew by with no one at her side, the day turned into night, in the night she began to cry. The so called day was hell for her, nothing she done could help her escape from it. Begging on her knees God help me please and nothing seemed to change… Her world turned upside down what’s wrong is right and what’s right is wrong. The same old room the same old song she sings on a daily… he touches her daily… Running in her mind trying to find a safe haven when all she wants to do is take a trip to heaven she’s done. Giving up finding her own song but the same verses seem to show up every time that he blows up. She cries… in her room under lock and key she takes that blade and whispers the words please… the only love in my life is from this blade or that knife running its bitter sweet over me. She cuts deep as deep as she could go without letting them know she cries… Her pain, she wears it on her sleeves this ain’t no joke she has been begging please for some time now and nothing seems to heal. The screams fill her head with anticipation thinking about the way the blade made sweet love to her now tallied up skin how she invited it in instead of fighting it within she allowed it to touch her… unlike him. She cries, every night thinking about that dreadful night when she had just turned 12… he told her it’s what fathers and daughters do… it’ll bring me closer to you so she stopped fighting. Not knowing what was actually taking place… he forced her into believing that was a daughters place to do those things that no other daughter does… willingly. She’s scared from the inside out, trying to figure out sitting in health class at the age of 13 when her health teacher reads from the board… this is what lovers do. The words oral *** and vaginal *** appear on the screen she hears her screams from the pain in her chest… this is not a request it needs to stop… she begged him please he laughed in her face but didn’t leave her be… it kept on. She’s turning 15 and her tears grow larger and flow longer… her tallies grow deeper the love grows sweeter that she holds for her blade… The drinking and the drugs grow strong, stronger than her will to live she gives up hope… it’ll never end. She’s drunk, not able to stand on her own two feet she forgets that she comes home to him… nobody suspects anything nobody hears her cries for help… he touches her again as she lays on the couch unable to speak because the liquor in her system is too hard to beat… she’s wasted. Trying to scream begging her voice to finally speak as he… he pushes himself on her placing his hands on her throat. Cupping her neck in his hands he chokes her to sleep… waking up in tears not remembering the night she had before she gets another drink. Looking around in a familiar house he lays on her couch… no clothes on happy as could be. Rubbing her thighs she sees… marks that wasn’t there before she picked up her drinks. He smiles… knowing she doesn’t remember knowing he stole her innocents from the night before he took something that wasn’t for his self. She stumbles to the mirror… looks at herself and sees the bruises on her cheeks… not remembering how they happened to be placed there. Crying folded over in the sink throwing up the memories of her past… the memories of when he was just a dad… the memories of before she grew a chest and started to gain thighs… wiping the tears from her eyes. She grabs her best friend the one who loved her the one she let in… kissing it so softly there she goes again. Placing the metal against her skin and gently pulls it back again… scarlet sputtering out of her skin. She cries… from the inside out she dies… slowly killing herself with the misery that he so ignorantly put her through… The words I’m sorry slip off of his lips as easy as the blade slips off of my skin… he says it’ll never happen again as he only rubs his filthy hands back over her skin infecting her soul with pain… She cries… hoping one day she’ll wake up and be able to watch him die… Hatred grows stronger for herself, letting her brain run her life when her heart was just as smart… She blames herself… for something she had no intentions of letting happen… She left… and now he tries to be the father that he claims he always has been… She cries… I… I cry.

I once had this lover who when in the mood would communicate to me in a way only my body could understand. Her eyes shining so bright inviting me into her soul. Fading pink from her teeth clenching her lip begging for my tongue to wrestle hers. Cringing toes pushing forwards as she scratches her nails down her skin leaving pink lines like the sun kissing the ocean while it sinks down into the water. My lust for her grows stronger the longer that my lungs draw air. My lover ran her fingers through my long hair bringing me to my knees… not only because I was ***** but because I had tangled up hair. I call her my queen and I was her King even though my body matched her body but she knew what my heart would read. I love her, she claimed to love me through all of my flaws she was my whiteout, clearing all of the mistakes about me, and we re-wrote my history with just one succulent kiss from her sweet lips. We wrote history with everything that we did. When she slid her hand into mine and our fingers wound themselves around each other as I melted into her eyes like the chocolate that god melted to create her eyes with a slight tint of red in them that burned into the back of my head. This lover was a gift from god himself… even if she’s another’s lover, and not mine, because she was my first…, and last true love.

The sidewalk seems to grow longer the more that I walk.
Leaves blowing in the wind, scratching at the asphalt.
Baggy shorts a t-shirt covered by an overly large hoodie, a backwards hat and DC's.
Sideways looks begin to consume me.
Silent comments are spread between them as they double look me.
My body reads a young girl in her teens, while my clothes read just the opposite.
Me I'm a different breed from what they're used to seeing.
Mixed emotions control my being, forcing tears into fleeing from my tear ducts.
I skip high school daily, I can't stay there the hate drives me crazy.
I thought if anyone could handle it... that it was me.
I was forced into believing that being me was some sort of disease.
I cry myself to sleep in a crisis facility that isn't for me.
My cries are silent, the same goes for me.
I leave them speculating what goes on within me.
To others I am far from perfect, to me I will one day be perfect when I shed this layer of female and grow into a picturesque male; like caterpillars shed their cocoon and become in tune with what they were destined to be.
Only then will my soul be able to live in complete harmony with my body.
Others only see a girl trying so desperately to be a guy... a young lesbian in their eyes.
Truth be told I am a woman on the outside and a man on the inside awaiting the day that I can be turned inside out and sprout out what my heart always said to be.
They don't understand me, they claim it to just be a phase that all people go through... but for me this "phase" is never ending.
They are wrong to tell me that it is just a phase, that's like me telling them that their sexuality or their gender is just a phase and that one day they will grow up into the person they were born to be.
You are born already knowing who you are within your own heart it just takes time to grow into that state of being.
Life is a series of phases, in my life being a woman is the phase that will soon pass as I transition into the young man I was all along.
People like me tell me to be strong, I listen but sometimes it feels as though I am... alone.
I'm singing to the choir this much I know.
But when will I be able to say that I am at inner peace with myself.
When will I be able to stand in front of the mirror and see the real me staring back ready to marry the lifelong decision of changing my ****** gender into what I deem is me.
I was born by the name of Katlyn... I grew up into this world by the name of Nick. They question why... my answer is, I am just a butterfly.