I've wished I was a boy my whole life.
To get respect without demanding it.
To walk in a room and be part of the club.
To not be seen as an outsider, an irritant.

I loathed that I was treated differently.
I worked my entire life to get here,
believing that it would get better
with the fancy title and, finally, the career.

Now, I've made it. Yet, I still have to demand:
To be seen. To be CC'd on emails. To not be
excluded. Do you know how difficult it is
to have the right title, but not the right genitalia?

You can be competent, intelligent,
the smartest in the room.
But if you aren't the ideal gender,
You're just a pretty face in costume.

We can indeed laugh

at ourselves, the two of us --


if nobody knows.

Young people are poor thinkers
You must first feed them

on the fruits of that one
special tree of knowledge

of what is useful and detrimental
before they know anything

and once they get that
they understand

that it is the way it has to be
if one doesn't want to remain a paradise child

for whom everything must be ready
in a world without dangers

What is detrimental to that, is good
for humanity, although it is a pity

that many adults do not continue to eat
the fruits of that tree

Come, sit beside me
Grab a chair, a stool, a couch
Bring coffee and conversation
we’ll slump, chill and slouch
It matters not on where you sit
nor on, where you stand as well
As long as you come in peace
with things to share and tell
It’s of little concern what you look like
or the accent that you leak
as long as you make a good coffee
and we listen when each speak
on a matter of personal opinion
maybe another point of view
So let’s enjoy each others perspective
and feel free to express them too

Some say that life is just around
The corner,
Some say that fun is just around
The corner
But unless you’ve been there yourself
You wouldn’t understand the billboard
Above the corner store.
Although things change, it’ll surprise you
What stays the same.
What ghost appears & possesses you
One second to the next.
Barely visible labels taken down
& replaced,
Old rusted metal.
A small reminder that things can
& will be replaced.
Just through the intersection,
Just around the corner.
Some say that things just aren’t
The way they use to be.
The news broadcasts certain events
That take place under the billboard.
A mans been shot five times &
The police still haven’t responded.
Unless you’re a bear wearing a headdress
Wearing shades, & riding a dull grey bike.
You’ll search for a place to belong too,
Up high above on the billboard,
Above the corner store.
Unless you live on this side of town.
You wouldn’t understand,
Why he peddles the way he does

⚠️Trigger Warning: the following poem contains subject matter pertaining to suicide and death⚠️

When a person dies
of a physical illness,
you mourn them.

When a person commits suicide,
you assassinate their character
and call them
selfish

because their death is a result
of a self-inflicted action.

Because they chose to die,
right?

Because they not only chose  
to destroy themselves,
but the lives of their family and friends,
right?

But
just as a physical illness
turns the cells against the body,

a mental illness
turns the mind against
itself,
convinces it that
death
is the only option.

What you don't understand
is that the person isn't our
killer--

depression is.