in our very own room
all have fever.. privately
we feed it soft egg

we closet and build
create fabric, like insect
mouthwork, repurpose

outside of the home
dictated by company
we have shared madness

we tread the weather
we institutionalize
miss out on the world

societies pal
traitors to our piracy
mistrust our own mind

blinds drawn, in fierce study
apply to the retooling
head clay made better

the automaton
must bare some animation
unallied approach

wetter still and fit
your neutrons fend now and thrive
carry the tune outdoors ?

There have been countless times
Where we've voice chatted
And I laughed and you called it cute.
And I found myself enjoying it.

I liked it whenever I sounded like that
Whenever I sounded different, feminine.
And I began to dislike hearing my normal laugh.
It felt odd to me.

A thought popped into my head.
A desire to experiment.
And once I did it, I felt even weirder about myself.
Then the questions started.

You pointed things out, and called me an egg.
Not that I minded.
Still, the questions remained, and I felt strange.
There was a sadness that I couldn't place.

Excuses were made.
Like how I didn't feel a 'certain way'
Whenever I tried on those clothes again.
It had to be something ******. It just had to.

But I started to not react in that way anymore.
And I kind of liked wearing them.
So then the questions returned.
And I didn't know what to think.

In the end, while I still have these questions.
I think it's okay to have them.
And even though I'm uncertain about myself
I'll continue on until I find who I am.