Lets see
The problem with me
Are my bones
And my chest
just to add, my shoulders
Make me feel like a mess.
My voice doesn't sound like mine at all
And I wish I could be a bit more tall
The look of my face
makes me want to scratch it off,
- you mean to tell me that's not everyone's thoughts.
I can't quite find the right words to pick
But I know this body makes me sick
Dysphoria isn't just a game, I feel
how I can look at it without having to kneel
not even my hands are right for me
Sometimes this body, I can't even see
so i take a blade and cut my skin
Till blood comes out, makes my head spin
At least that way I can gain some control
Over my pain - not over my soul
My soul doesn't fit this body I'm in
Maybe if I'd get rid or grew out of this skin
take a new form of something else
I would, even if it ment going to hell
I know everyone feels unwell at times
But I feel like im fighting my own suicide
Not just today or the day before
I feel like this at my very core
Not being born at all would have been a greater joy,
But if I were to choose, I'd choose to be born a boy.