Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
L 7d
When all is done
and your tools have cut into me
when the audience roars
and Satan asks me, "How was it?"

know this,
with every part of you that is able to know:

I'll make sure to save you a seat
in the coldest theater of ****.
-
Gatekeeping surgeons are the worst.
JFree Dec 2018
dear —,
this is not divinity-
no empty pillowcase cape can make you fly
no lipstick can make you beautiful no girl can make you girl no
boy can’t make you boy
no night time prayers can make you god
girl,
you can’t hate yourself into a revolution
or love yourself into a label
boy,
bi-
child.
binary gendered thing
bipolar botched up baby with hit hard head
bisexual? still denying: *** **** ***** ***** ***** *****
bi.
j,
this is no caution tape finish line-
no period can finish your seesaw story,
child,
sadness sometimes stretches like
semicolons or wet cement
flowing through this blood, waiting for the moment to harden
to cave you into yourself
to sink into nose too wide, heart too big, space
too much
you growing soul,
with samson strength put all
in two places
just because that ****** pillowcase can
catch your tears doesn’t mean
you will always be only to catch
You,
stand.
have you prayed your own salvation so much you’ve forgotten how it feels to
open your eyes
?
held yourself long enough your back can’t ***** open again
?
searched solutions for phantoms so you can only see yourself problem
?
have you written so many poems that you expect me finished
here?
•••
darling,
not every poem has a conclusion
not every poem needs one.
and not every person is prose
where the solution wraps itself into a bow
you can’t keep conflict with yourself until it does
love,
sometimes the answer will pass through
falling failing chests and
pressed pastor palms
sometimes the answer isn’t prewritten
picture book in black and white/boy and girl
sometimes it’s You
somewhere in between-
Sage Dec 2018
You scream THEM
You shout it from the rooftops
Bellowing until you throat cracks
But they hear SHE
'She' they say with sweet smiles
You continue your shouts
Begging them to understand
THEM you wail
Your voice breaks as you sink to the ground
They lay a comforting hand on your shoulder
Then whisper in your ear with breath like a poisonous flower
'She'
Rei Coman Dec 2018
"There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you."
-Maya Angelou

My soul is a sweetie:
She’s a cute but ****,
with an infectious smile,
an enchanting personality.
She wears dark colors,
slightly goth makeup,
and thick-rimmed glasses.
She likes candles, tea,
sweaters, and cannabis,
and goes on long walks
in the woods by starlight.
She’s cool and confident,
outgoing and fun,
and as beautiful as
a moonrise reflected
off of a frozen lake.

She’s me.
But I am not her.
She’s the me inside
of the me inside of me.

She cries when my mind
grapples with the bounds
of the mental illness
that gives her life.
She screams in pain
when my mind tries
to rationalize her
and explain her away.
And she glows with joy
whenever I try
to grow closer to her.
She’s the part of me
I never asked for,
whose existence hurts
like a deep burn,
but nonetheless makes
me truly be myself.
This is dedicated to all my readers who are Trans, Fluid, Non-Binary, or otherwise struggle with the pain of Gender Dysphoria. I promise, inside of all of us there is a beautiful individual, even if it differs from what we see when we look in the mirror. Much love for you all <3
Bunny Rubinstein Nov 2018
I have kissed boys

Girls

People in between

But lately I have been kissing bottles

Their lips are colder than yours

But slowly I have realized that the pounding headache when I wake is less hurtful than the shattering in my chest

Yet as these toxins rush through my veins

I can't help but miss the tracing of your fingers along my skin

Miss the numbness of the world when you lie with me

But when I wake I remember that a headache is treated with an aspirin

While heartache

Well if you have a cure for Heartache let me know
Emily Nov 2018
"Act like a girl"

   "You're a girl"

   "You can't wear that, it's from the boys section"

   "Don't sit like that"

   "Why are you trying to be a boy"

   "You'll look like a boy if you cut your hair short"

   "Wear girl clothes"

   I can't help it
This feeling, this itching
screams at me all day

I'm so confused
about who I am
and who I want to be

Maybe it's just because
of the people around me,
messing with my head

I don't want to
"Act like a lady"

In fact
I don't want to be a lady
at all

But I don't
want to be
a boy either

I want to be
me

I want to wear dresses and basketball shorts

I want to wear skinny jeans and loose hoodies

But instead I have to
"Be more girly"
because
I was "born a girl"
I don't know if I'm a girl or boy or what. I don't know if I'm just confused or if I'm being ******. I hate being a girl bit I don't want to be a boy. I just want to be me.
CallMeB Nov 2018
i’m like a stranger in my own body, my own head.
knocking, waiting for someone to come and help this
lost person. no one comes
no one comes because no one knows
that i feel like a stranger to myself.
begging, pleading,
grabbing ahold of any attention one
gives me to have a semblance of sanity—
normalcy.
what is normal for someone who has never experienced
it in their life
when someone asks what “normal” is to me, i stare
blankly at them unable to come up with anything
normal and this stranger inside me
don’t know each other
Carter Ginter Oct 2018
When I was small
I hoped to be just like my brothers
I didn't see gender differences then
I wanted to play the same sports
To join in on family football games
I wanted to be one of the boys too
Take my shirt off
Run the ball down the road
Play in the mud
Maybe I just wanted to be included
And maybe I saw them as cool kids
Looking back now
It seems much more telling
Maybe brief, perhaps longer
but in this moment I am She.
It’s fluid, isn’t it? To decide
upon being Her, rather than
the prolonged Masculine----
that’s not to say I won’t be Him again.

This is liquid consideration,
rolling down my neck, my
collarbone, breast, navel----
It was so obvious when I felt it
like a switch-flip, dynamite ignite----
Boom. He is She. I am She.

Now name me, for I am born
unto this magnificence---- A body,
a mind---- Mine. His. Ours.
Stronger than any,
mightier than all.

Breathe me life for I am valid----
in this moment, we are goddess.
I am Now.
Ray Ross Oct 2018
Dear Mom,
Someday, you’ll need to know.
I know you won’t like it
Or even understand it,
But I want you to know
Someday.
You want me to be closer
With you and Dad,
But to be closer with you,
You need to be close with me too.
You have to know
Someday.
I wore dresses as a kid
Because I thought it was fancy,
And I liked to be pantsless.
You’ll see that as evidence
That I should be lying.
I am not what you expected,
And I am not what you wanted.
I am not your little girl,
Though it hurts like ****
To tell you so.
I am not straight,
Though you don’t really respond
When I tell you I like a girl
And your face shrivels
Like the words from my breath
Leave a bitter taste
Between your gritted teeth.
You’ll really have to know,
Someday.
I am nonbinary.
I am bisexual.
I am a ******* amalgamation of the things you don’t believe in,
The things you think are just a new wave of special characters,
Pretty pictures on instagram,
You call me a sponge
Full of others’ emotions and thoughts
You denote my strength as a being.
I am an amalgamation of the things you think of as teenage fairytales,
I am a ******* unicorn pegasus to you,
Dear Mom,
I am ******* beautiful.
And you’ll really know that,
Someday.
Next page