We transgenders are not *****, nor *******. We transgenders are not tools, nor autistic or *******. It is not funny to spit at us. Or stick notes on our back. It is not funny to misgender us, or harass and assault. It is like we are a fish out of water. Watching everyone swim. As we suffocate and die. See, we transgenders are just like you. And you see, We all speak it. The truth.
⇜⇝⇜⇝⇜⇝⇜⇝ .madame's stifled feverish tittering, voice raucous as tamped in a corselet, translucent skin akin to pellucid drapery, overwrought hands entwined in champagne hair, madame's eccentricity is her lunacy. ⇜⇝⇜⇝⇜⇝⇜⇝ ⇜⇝⇜⇝⇜⇝⇜⇝ .the mellifluous static of the ebony radio, dulcet hallucinations imbricate in her Crumpet, ephemeral visionary of the erstwhile, Madame’s a suitable fandangle tenant of the bedlam. ⇜⇝⇜⇝⇜⇝ ⇜⇝⇜⇝⇜⇝ .madame scrutinized the greenwood through the crevice, appetency for the veil of sea smoke, imperceptive to her frenzy. ⇜⇝⇜⇝⇜⇝ ⇜⇝⇜⇝⇜⇝ .ensnared in an austere plight, madame’s urbane actuality, disenfranchised. ⇜⇝⇜⇝⇜⇝⇜⇝⇜⇝⇜⇝ ⇜⇝⇜⇝⇜⇝⇜⇝⇜⇝⇜⇝ .the exuberant dimension of reciting hysteria. ⇜⇝⇜⇝⇜⇝