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why must we be
limited
by this creature
we call home?

why do we have to
settle for what
this can do?

why must we go through
so
much
to feel happy?

why do we have to
exist
at all?

why can't we just
go and live
in our dreams?

why do we have to
wake up?

why can't we keep
dreaming?
body dysphoria getting worse :)
Lucy Jan 12
My pain Is Eternal.
But no one can see it. no one can feel it.
Only I can see and feel this pain.
Only I can hear it laughing at me when i look in the mirror.
Only i can feel it when someone calls me the wrong name.
only i can fix it.
but there is no hope for me.
my family cannot see or hear this pain.
only i can.
only i can fix it.
but there is no hope for this mess.
My gender dysphoria has been getting worse.
This poem describes my pain.
hsn Jan 6
in the mirror

my body morphs into the male fantasy

bones to muscle, muscle to brawn
skin sturdy, many a mind merit

perfect teeth, the perfect male face
one to please the crowd, to forget
the harmful dysphoria plague

oh, to be the reflection in the mirror
Abel Dec 2024
On the first day, I was born into a wrong body.
On the second day, I turned into a mirrored copy.

On the third day, I pushed everyone away.
On the fourth day, begged anyone to stay.

On the fifth day, I cried on my own.
On the sixth day, I was completely alone.

On the seventh day, I found myself,
But at that point, I was only a living shell.
Quick poem after a difficult day that popped up in my brain.
Kaiden Lewis Dec 2024
The reason you're hated, the
Reason your life is miserable, everyone is
Against you just because you're alive.
Nobody sees you as the true gender you are, they only
See you as a confused freak. They say that
God created you to be whatever you were born as,
Even though you're extremely uncomfortable because of it.
No one understands you, they see you as an abnormality.
Dysphoria begins to take over your body, mind and soul, the
Everlasting hate spreading around you. Being transgender is
Rough.
Another acrostic cuz they're cool, i dont care what others say
Lumin Guerrero Nov 2024
I wonder, a lot of the time,
what it would be like if I were born a
boy.

Would I be happier?
Relieved from this feeling to over-masculinize myself
to combat the more obvious feminine features...

The "girl" voice
"Girl" body
"Girl" hair
"Girl" name
"Girl" demeanor
"Girl"
"Girl"
"Girl"

Baby
"Girl"
...

What if I were born a baby
"Boy"

Well then, that wouldn't make it any better, now would it.

Then it would all be,
"Boy"
"Boy"
"Boy"
"Boy" demeanor
"Boy" name
"Boy" hair
"Boy" body
"Boy" voice

So, even if my chromosomes were lost an X, had a Y instead,
I would still be bound to the same fate.
The same hurt that is gender dysphoria.

Society-
or, God?-
has only made two categories,
two choices
two sexes
two lives
two boxes.

I wonder, then,
what it would be like
if that wasn't so.
Mercy Nov 2024
When I gaze into the mirror,
I see no reflection,
When they take my picture,
There is no image to capture,
It feels as though I do not exist,
No connection between my body and soul,
When silver strikes, I still feel it,
Yet I do not claim it as my own,
I yearn for a body that captures my essence,
One day,
I will confront the shadows that haunt my soul
Pierce Samuel Sep 2024
Smile to all of them to make everyone's day better
But then your mouth starts to hurt
but you keep on smiling
because who am I if I don't advert—
my eyes from everything, they're all lying
It's 11 at night, I want to sleep
but sweat trickles down my neck as I weep
The labels are crushing me telling me what to be
I just want to recognize myself in the mirror and say "Hey! That's me!"
I am tired of being the stupid and dumb friend
but if I'm not, I might not be able to mend
Mend the souls of those who cried when nights were stormy
And I know someone would do the same for me
but it feels selfish if I don't say sorry.
GUYS I SWEAR I'M LESS EMO NOW. IK THIS IS NOT A GOOD POEM I WROTE IT ALMOST A YEAR AGO <\33 I'M JUST DOCUMENTING ALL MY POEMS ON HERE FOR MY SILLY LITTLE GOODREADS FOLLOWERS
as I am numbed in euphoria by
the closeness of his embrace,
the eclipse which held me in paralysis
slowly bleeds in the sky
as it anchors a crescent light of passion.

oh, he has held the disaster of my body
in his palm and has laid me naked upon him.

tucked neatly among the webbings of his fingers
is a whispering lily that sings me to sleep.

the sphere of black,
fixated upon the sky,
is melting...

I weep to see his loving eyes
pour over the deprived valley
that is the entirety of my being.

yet...
It is as if this man,
and his exposed nakedness encompassing me,
is the coming season of warmth
which teaches me nourishment...
blood poetry
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