there are days my body doesn't support me hold me close and protect me there are the days that I am a clay figure molded by clumsy hands shaped with curves where there should be flat
a persona of who I am who I want to be there are the days when I avoid mt reflection yet want to check to make sure it matches
these are the days when my reflection NEVER matches who I am my insides twist in disgust and I want to crawl out of myself
these are the days my body is a secret I never want to revel when my steps are unsure and my face is set to "boy mode"
these are the days that I watch guys and imitate them stealing their walk hoping I can steal their identity so I don't have to live my own
these are the days my heart hurts when I am called her, she when a pronoun becomes an insult and these are the days when I wish my mind wasn't so deadset against my happiness that I could just "feel" girl