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Day 14h
Bones built with empty tp rolls
Skin scratchy paper
Brain stitched with badly written poems
Veins flowing *****
Eyes rolled with strawberry swishers
Nose bleeding paint
Chest dried out in the sink
//
Feet laying down for the night
Thoughts stain the sheets
\
Did you ever think we could've been twins? Not like born together. Not fused like the two sides of an oyster encapsulating a precious pearl. No, I mean like the two sides of a mirror. Perfect opposites. Equally opposite damaged from long days of staring and hoping, and laughing and crying. Begging for things to maybe resolve, maybe become clearer. Maybe disappear with the steam of the 2.AM shower in the pitch dark. Hiding imperfections so that maybe they won't exist. I want to look at us both without fear of what I might see.
I want to see the correct way of viewing things and not the enhanced wrongness of a backward reflection. If we are the same then tell me that from your side we are better. That from your side we are stronger. That....just maybe...from your side, I am right for once.
I'm currently doing
"Fine"
But I say it without
Implications

You accept the answer
Though you know I'm not
And you move along
As if you can't tell

That the dysphoria
Is pressing me into a corner
Where I sit against the wall
And tears flow from my eyes

You notice the cuts on my wrists
By the way I gingerly move them
And the white bandage
Peeking from under my sleeves

The people inside my head
Scream at me to give in
For they want to be here
Less than I do

But I tell you that I'm
"Fine"
When I wish I could say
"I'm dying."
YAY dysphoria, am I right?
August Oct 6
pulling down a shirt
to cover my thighs
don't look,
stay away
i don't want to see your face-

or mine
mirrors are your best friend
and my worst enemy-
or is that my mind?
i just loooooove dysphoria
Moth Oct 5
body, what aches in you?
from dismantling joints
to decaying flesh
the rot only I can see

mind, what plagues you?
from late night thoughts
to the words of others
as I try to escape it

body, what are you?
to deny the mind
and wreck havoc on identity
to break me again

mind, what say you?
follow into darkness
and float ways away now
to a better place for us
A mask that everyone could see
Something to hide behind
A “shield” for me

It stung like needles
Burned like a brand
This mask placed by a hollow hand

I could never be rid of it
Never just be free
For what would my family think of me

It took a push from someone
A helpful hand
To finally remove that burning brand

They helped me take off the mask
Saw what was inside
And accepted me as I sat there and cried

They gave me a space
A place to be free
Until I was able to finally be me

I went to see my family
Without the mask, in open air
I steeled myself to be prepared


But instead of yelling
Of bitter frost
I found that my hope was not lost

I met with acceptance
Knowing care
A hearth’s warmth and gentle air

One day I left the mask behind
Not just for that day, but for all time
The burning brand, the stinging mark
Left in that closet in the dark
I wrote this about my experience coming out as well as the dysphoria I experienced (and still do experience). I've been out for a few years now, but I wanted to write this. This is my first published poem on here. I hope that you all enjoy.
Roro Aug 27
Now and then I catch a glimpse

Of a shadow or piece of a thing

Alive but terrifying to reminisce.

Now and then I sense

The presence of some being

Closing in on my ears and neck.

Now and then I feel a tap

On my shoulder or my head from the back.

Surrounded by too many

Always checking

Always wondering

Who's there?

Where did you go?

But to an audience that doesn’t know

I'm alert, though in isolation

and completely alone.
For me, feeling paranoid and manic together feels like seeing glimpses and feeling the presence of creatures from a parallel world. I like to think a small invisible fairy visits me and flutters around my head annoyingly, making me **** my head around and see frightening things that disappear in a flash. Even in the calm comforting solitude of my own bedroom :D
I fall to the ground
Broken by words not exactly meant to hurt
I shatter
From the impact of reality
Corbyn Aug 2
“Baby girl, you’re a tomboy”
“You need to look how I tell you to”

Youngest of five boys
Was supposed to be the baby girl
I never was
I’ve never been that
                        
            
             I told myself to fit the mold
There’s nothing wrong
There’s nothing wron
There’s nothing wr
...

Dysphoria kills
Hiding in the closet would be the cause of my death
I need to be me
But who am I?
My life has been spent shoving myself into a space never meant for me
Kit Scott May 27
I dream of taking my shirt off
A fantasy of skin and scars
Of baring my chest to the sun
Of muscle and fat and hair
And all the grossest parts of the human form
I want them to be mine
For this body to be mine
I fantasize of stripping naked
In the privacy of my own room
To look in the mirror and see
A familiar face, a familiar body
Just to see, just to look
Delight unfurls in my heart
Just to know, now, that I belong to myself
That my own bared flesh no longer causes me pain
That my own bareness is no longer a shame
I deal with dysphoria by forcing a disconnect between my mind and my body. I feel like a stranger to myself. This face isn't mine.
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