We're stuck within these bodies that we're dying to change
We are ashamed because we want to be different

Modified.

We cannot escape being called by "her" or "him"
It may not seem like much, but titles matter,
As do appearances.

"I want to be this", I say
"But you're not that." Society barks

That.

We crave to be that,
The opposite of "who we are"
We're stuck, truley
We feel as if we can't escape this, containment,
This restriction,
This prohibition.

That defines us.

We didn't choose to be WHO we are,
We didn't get a choice to become WHAT we are.

I am a "he".
I am a "her".

We are confined to be one gender, "ourselves"

How can we be ourselves if our looks are so decieving?
Are we not judged by our outskirts?

I want to be "that", On the outside
I already am, on the inside

Though, I'm jammed,
Wedged,
Lodged,
Embedded,
Fixed.

We linger in these false corpses
They burn at our courage and tear at our hearts
They puncture and pierce and leave scars and bruises in our souls
Because we cannot run from ourselves.

When society is against us
We remain still
Immovable
What can we do if our skin is a lie?

I am a "he" on the inside, a "she" on the outside
I am a "she" on the inside, a "he" on the outside

I can't escape alone.

I think I'm trapped