I am a boy, but I wear a bow on my head. It flows down my shoulders. I pretend that it’s my hair. Red hair that shimmers gold in the sunlight, highlights for society to see, see a woman trapped in a man’s body. Or is it a man trapped in a woman’s body? My body is all that shows beauty, but my face is too ****. I wrap it in red ribbon, a mummy cursed by her own- his own self image. Image of red thread dripping down my wrists. Wrists tied too tightly to a knife wrapped in red, so I cut them. Red hair all over the bathroom floor forming roses next to my deathbed. Hung above my bed, the threads of red hung tightly around my neck, draped down from the bow I wear at the top of my head.