dont mind me in my predicament, steer clear
just waiting for the evident fear here
of the confinement
to a prison for
one.

mama said ill regret it in a year or so
but to her i say at least thats a year of my
life to know
that i wont have to wake up
wanting to shed this skin.

my thoughts are filthy, shallow, obsessed,
theres not a day goes by where im not lessened
by the urge to destroy
and snip and cut and bleed.

and so i lay and wallow, grieved,
upon my throne of mutiny
suckling a fantasy of
FTM.

holding on to hope that it will
end.