I look into the mirror, not wanting to see.
Who I am, but what I could be.
A girl to the world, a boy at heart.
A girl from the womb, a boy from the start.
"Be proud of who you are"
That's what they say.
But how can I be proud,
When my body causes me dismay?
"You'll never be a boy."
They shout at me.
"Then I'll never be happy."
I guess it's meant to be.
I come to my room,
my chest stained red.
I cut myself open,
just to see the dead ends.
For I still have a heart,
and I still have a soul.
But i'll never be a boy.
That's all I've been told.
Oct 19, 2016
Oct 19, 2016 at 10:42 AM UTC
I look into the mirror, not wanting to see.
Who I am, but what I could be.
A girl to the world, a boy at heart.
A girl from the womb, a boy from the start.
"Be proud of who you are"
That's what they say.
But how can I be proud,
When my body causes me dismay?
"You'll never be a boy."
They shout at me.
"Then I'll never be happy."
I guess it's meant to be.
I come to my room,
my chest stained red.
I cut myself open,
just to see the dead ends.
For I still have a heart,
and I still have a soul.
But i'll never be a boy.
That's all I've been told.