Buzzing of furious sounds reverberate within an ear,

These are whispers one often hears,

Many of which one may never tell,

The little secrets we often bare,

Making our existence a living hell.



Despair enters my heart,

Looking at my form as I am plagued,

By what is between my legs,

A constant reminder,

That I am not complete,

Yearning to be whole,

When I feel obsolete.



Jaded of looking in the mirror,

Only to see dark shadows along my jaw,

The taunting follicles of hair,

Above my lip,

Engendering my soul to feel,

As though it might rip.



The rumors,

Oh how they spread,

Of how I possess both genitals,

Oh the misconceptions I often dread,

Or perhaps another wishes to speak,

About truths that should leave my lips,

Yet many lack the ability.

To silence their tongues,

Insisting to make their own curious quips.