The first time I gathered up enough courage
To tell my father his sons name
He looked at me
I watched his mouth move

"It'll be hard for me to let go" He says
He says
He says
He says
Like that would grab the dying name from Hell
And drag it back up again
But it doesn't
And he's disappointed

"You'll always be my little girl" He says
And my throat dries
And my heart dies
And my eyes shut tight
Like that would shield me from the sword
He stabbed into my very being
But it doesn't
And I'm disappointed

The first time I gathered up enough hate
To rip my body into little shards
He looked at me
I watched his mouth smile

My eyes are not sunlit windows to my own self, rather dimmed and tinted blockades to never give you a full picture. They are not a colourful array of flowers, they are dull and wilting weeds.

My lungs cannot breathe in and smell the roses because they are laced with tar, and not enough oxygen from shallow breathing. They are restricted from fulfilling out their purpose so I can feel 'okay.'

My ears will not listen to the buzzing of bees and the gentle wind- they will, however, listen to the screams between them and confuse help with hate.

My tongue does not taste of honeysuckle and mint, but rather ash and dried blood from tasting my existence. It formulates words laced with too much sleep and too little self care.

My fingertips do not touch as if I am handling the daintiest of flower petals, instead they trace a gravestone between my ribs with a purpose. They tear at my own skin and hair, or at least try to.

Do not devalue my battleground of a body by comparing it to a garden

He wrote
inscripted objects
Into my eye

He bountied
For affection
One not
Likely met

She screamed
While sufficating
Her authenticity

He shouted
Yea she'll come back

She wore her wedding gown
Into the dessert
And was found drowned

He wrote
Inscripted objects
Into my eye

The novels now
A mystery
My Life
Total chaos
With a smile

Because he's no
Longer with me
I cry my left eye out

Sorry to disappoint you, mother, father
But I'm not your daughter
Sorry classmates, I'm not a her
I'm a sir.
I've spread these wings, I'm ready for flight
And if necessary, I'm ready to fight
I'm sick and tired of hiding
I'm through with denying
This is me
I will be true to my heart
Nothing will shatter my pride apart.
I'm a boy. I'm a man.
And someday family, I hope you understand.

"I'm a boy," he mutters away from the others and winced as he looked in a mirror, his reflection not what he wanted.

"I'm a boy," he said quietly, almost ashamed to say as he came out to his best friend.

"I'm a boy." Tears filled his eyes as he announced to his parents, surprised when they accepted him fully.

"I'm a boy." He can proudly say, years after he had kept it all in, he can show who he truly is.

He awoke and found himself
inside the body of another.
Safe in the darkness
gentle amniotic arms held him whilst muffled voices dictate his fate
“You’re having a girl” they exclaimed,
and he lay, wondering what this meant.  

He awoke and found himself  
inside the words of another.  
Inside the “brother” he never was, rather than never had  
and the “boy”  that scuffed his knees in adventure.  

He awoke and found himself
“a pretty girl”, “a princess”, “just like her mother”
so he closed his eyes and dreamt of another.
A world of train-sets and barber shops,
birthday candle wishes to replace long, curly locks

he awoke, and found himself floating
in space
his face, unrecognisable in the mirror.  
His chest seemed to grow branches  
as if by night the doctors that had pulled him from her womb
had suddenly discovered his secret.  

They grew like thorns until they were all he could see.
Those and the other boys, s h a t t e r i n g jigsaw piece body parts
every time he looked at them.  
He wondered why when their voices deepened, it was called a voice  
break and not a gift.  
A broken larynx. A birthday present lost in the post,
instead he unwrapped their super glued puzzle pieces,
piling them onto his plate
if you eat your vegetables, you’ll grow up to be a man.

“You’re having a girl”, more like “You can pass go but you will never collect 200 dollars”.
“You’re having a girl”, more like “earthquakes will erupt inside your mind every time you hear the words
“She”, “Her”, “Sister”
“You’re having a girl”, but he was  

“He”, “His”, “Mister”.

And when he cut his hair, and found himself  
in the arms of over-sized t-shirts and grown out leg hair,
they would say
“you look like a boy”, as if they expected him to protest in offence
but his heart feels as warm as the breeze that blows through thornless branches of trees  
and he wants to say thank you.  
He wants to say that the words  
“You look like a boy” manage to stitch up his jigsaw piece body parts,
for these are the words that cut through his mothers dresses and threw away the thread
these, are the words that in time would cause his voice to break;
remind him that he is not broken
and bury his girlhood beneath his bed.

Let me be me.
Trust my judgement even if you don't know what it means
Believe that I am trying
Explaining how I feel is a lot harder than lying.
I am afraid.
I am scared with every word I say
But not because of I'm unsure who I am at the end of the day.
I know who I am. What I'm afraid of is that our relationship will fade.
It's hard for both of us,
All I'm asking for is a little bit of trust
I know you don't want to give it because I've lied.
I know you feel like your daughter has died
But I know that your son is alive.
He's not asking for help, he just wants support
You can't get a her out of him no matter what you try to extort.
I've always been a people pleaser, who said I didn't act that way for you?
I don't like upsetting people, this trait is not new.
I know you think I am too young
But I am sure as the rising sun
I may not know everything, but at least I know this
So draw your arrow and aim your bow
But if you shoot be sure not to miss
Because when it comes to this, I will not just roll over and lie low.

A name on a form
speaks in front of you.
Focus on that
not the box they tick
when asked to pick
a side
when they don't quite fit
in either.