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Ray Ross Sep 2018
Mixing ***** and juices,
On Tuesday morning, Monday night,
The parents are asleep.
The stars are so bright.

My body is a temple,
You're **** right.
If it feels good enough,
I'll respect it tonight.

Bandage my chest,
Hurts my ribcage,
I’m a ******* kid,
Shouldn't have to be brave.

You should've been a brother,
Should've got the name right,
Should've been her son,
Instead I'm drinking tonight.
ethan Aug 2018
when i was a freshman one of my friends told me that there was a girl who was talking about me
asking why i was pretending to be straight and that everyone could tell that i was gay
my friends and i laughed it off like children and i quipped “i’m not pretending anything, just ask anyone and they’ll know”

now, i think of the rainbow socks, the only thing i own with a rainbow on it, being shoved down to the bottom of my sock drawer as if it would pop out at any minute and proclaim it’s existence if it were any higher. now, i think of the rainbow highlight that i applies in the bathroom at midnight, pausing every now and again to make sure i was alone. Now, i think of the pride nail art that i scrubbed off my nails minutes after i painted it on. now, i think of the last word in a poem that i wrote and turned in, scared i was being too obvious with the word they.

now, i think of the horrible creature sitting in my chest that simultaneously begs to never tell my secrets and to also scream them from the roof tops. i think of the sludge that lives in me and climbs up my throat, whispering safety into my ear while also ripping apart everything it touches. i think of the pain i feel whenever i say that i’m gay, because it makes things easier if the works sees me as a girl who loves other girls.

before thinking of this poem i had sat back and wondered how many bottles it would take of the various prescription medicines that my parents kept in the kitchen cabinet to **** me. when i remembered the name they would put on the tombstone i stopped and walked away. i remember the time where i couldn’t walk away and i had reached in and grabbed a full bottle of ibuprofen and i took a single one, hoping that my screaming head could be sated by the feeling of a single pill crawling down my throat.

i had a dream last night about someone called addison.
they looked me in the eyes and before i even knew what they looked like their physical form flickered until they were a bright shining star in a vaguely human form.

they sat next to me as we floated in a void on a picnic blanket and they put their arm around my shoulder which felt like a hug from someone i used to know but had forgotten
i stared at their glasses that looked too much like mine as they flickered in and out of existence and they told me i was not where i was supposed to be.

i didnt ask them where but they heard it anyways as if breaking into my thoughts. they answered that they could not tell me and when i thought why they said they didn’t want to spoil the fun of a brighter future for them and me.

i woke up with the taste of lavender on my tongue and the desire to change my name.
i’m not sure who i want to be
Harri Jul 2018
I am a woman.
Or so I'm told.
But how can I be a woman,
When the me in the mirror
Doesn't match the me in my head,
Because I just can't comprehend
Seeing ****?
When I want to peel my skin off
Because it itches at the seams,
Of the stitched in expectations
Of my ***?
When the people all around me
Laugh and say “it's natural”
When I dare to express my discomfort,
And it seems I'm the only one
Who struggles with the day to day
Of existing as a “miss”,
And my name doesn't fit unless it's shortened?
So I strap down my chest
So you can't see it.
But still my face screams woman,
And my voice
And my hips
And that ever ******,
Mother ******* “MISS”.
I know my **** are still there,
Their discomfort physical now,
Not just a mental ache.
And every month I bleed,
And it's like my body's betraying me.
But the whole world says that's just the way it is.

I'm tired of the way it is.
I'm tired of your boxes.
I climb out of one
To be kicked into another,
Not a woman, fine.
So I must want to be a man?
I must want to join the ranks
Of the people that have disgusted me,
Debased me
And repulsed me?
Of the people making sport
Of the gender I have lived with?
No.
No.
I won't live with a gender,
With your ******* expectations,
Or your games
Or your stupid little boxes.
Pink,
Or blue?
I LIKE ******* BOTH.
I want hairy legs,
But not a hairy chest.
I don't want ****,
But I don't want a ***** either.
I want long hair,
Without assumptions I'm a girl.

I want to exist outside society.
It's broken.
Middy Jun 2018
They preach about pride
“Pride is a sin!”
People nod obediently
“Two men kissing is a sin!”
A few more obedient nods

WHAT ARE WE?
Slaves? Do we obey all the things
That a silly old book says
To get to a place most probably
Will never see
Since they’ve committed just one
ONE SIN?

Two men kissing
Sounds harmless as a butterfly
Two girls kissing
Sweet as sugar

It’s fine to be yourself
Boy, girl, both or none
It’s accepted in the animal kingdom
Why not the human one?
Are you scared of a book?
A book that controls how you act
How you talk, speak, pray?

Have pride everyone!
Have pride in yourself!
Who you are!
Who you want to be!
BECAUSE SOMEONE
SOMEONE IN THIS BEAUTIFUL
GREEN/BLUE PLANET
WILL LOVE YOU FOR IT!
Not only is this for LGBT but I feel that people are just brought up into a religion and forced into it. Like how most are forced to see that LGBT is a bad thing. I hope people have the ability to choose their faith, their path in life and not be bullied or hurt for doing so. And the thing about the animal kingdom is true! There are several gay animals like penguins, sheep, flamingos, giraffes and lion! So there is ‘pride’ (pun intended, I regret nothing) in the animals kingdom: but not in the human Kingdom. All over some book that says we can’t.
Em or Finn Mar 2018
End
I feel trapped
Like I can't reach
The peak of who I am
Of who I'm meant to be

Everything becomes an obstacle
My hair
My voice
How I dress

They stop me
Stop me from being perceived
As the gender I feel
The gender I am

If gender dysphoria was a weapon
I would've been shot down long ago
With my brothers, sisters, and siblings
Who died from the never-ending torture

All I want is my name
All I want is for others to use my pronouns
But that's too far away
So I'm waiting for the torture to finally

End me
raingirlpoet Nov 2017
what happens when i no longer like your pink, sweet, version of me you’ve curated?
what would happen if i erased all colour completely?

no, i’m not talking about choosing blue over pink or yellow or green
“gender neutral” clothing isn’t any shade on the colour wheel

i’m talking about if i never associated the colour pink with femininity
and blue with masculinity

and yellow and green with “gender neutrality”

what if my life was just void of colour?

like if i were to say i didn’t feel like a girl nor a boy
nor the brief possibility of both

i just feel
like that grey space in between the most diluted shades on the colour wheel

would you still force me to call myself “daughter”?
ab Nov 2017
there is so much i'm afraid to ask you.

i want to know what it means
when it feels like a knife's blade
is trailing down your back whenever
anyone says ma'am or miss
but it doesn't carve into your flesh
the way you'd assume it might

i want to understand why i want
to carve and shape my chest
but don't mind if my curves stay
if it means i could wear a corset
and compress the rest of my body

i want to know why i am afraid to tell you
even though you're my best friend
and i know that you understand
and i know that you're here for me
but i'm afraid you will think
i am making it up as i go, like this
hasn't been long enough

but i have known something was wrong
for over a year

i didn't talk to you much then
even though i knew you for years

but i couldn't figure out why i was scared
why i am scared
why i have been scared of myself
and my body
and my mind
and i don't know where i am or what i'm doing
but i'm scared if i tell you now

it will be too late.

i know you know.

i don't have to tell you anything

but at the same time i know
that if i don't, you won't mold your words
around my mind, you won't plant
the flowers of change in your collar

and it's not because you wouldn't,

it's because i haven't given you a name for it.

one is a name you said reminded you of carnations

two is a name you told me existed

three is a name that even i am afraid to utter
because i don't feel right taking it from you
even if i tick all of the boxes perfectly.

it is a name i am not familiar with yet.

it is a name that would steal my parents' daughter
away from them

and it would not grant them a son either.

i want to talk about it so badly
but my lips won't form the words
and everyone around me has already
begun assimilating their language
without my telling them

i wish you would ask me what is wrong.

and i wish you would choose
'them'
for me.
~what is dysphoria supposed to feel like? do i have to mention it to my therapist? is that what this is?
xavier Nov 2017
baby butch in the bathroom, splotched with shaving cream
using dad's razor to shave what's barely even there on their jaw
baby butch in the bathroom, shirt off and defiant
(though alone who's there to see it)
(them that's who)
washing his feet and their armpits and her face

baby butch on the sidewalk, leather jacket wrapped around them/him, internal bravado daring everyone
not to look at him/them
baby butch in the hallway at school, laughing loud and pitching voice low
no one can know
but why not act how you want to
baby butch in the classroom, slouching in their seat, knees braced against opposite legs of the desk
carefully lazy
legs so tense

baby butch on the internet
finally telling
saying CALL ME THIS CALL ME THEY CALL ME HE
AND THEN CALL ME YOURS
she did. he is.
it's too soon. but he is.
baby butch in the background, scrawling out words
they. he. xavier. baby butch. king ****.
alive.
alive.
alive and living.
sup folx it's Gender Feels o'clock. rly id'ing with "butch" rn.
alex Oct 2017
"oh baby girl" they say
"oh baby girl
you will continue to be"
oh baby girl am i
am i?
they say to me
"oh baby girl
my goodness aren't you
a lovely young
lady"
but there in my ribcage
not my cargo of skin
no on the inside
i whisper
"oh baby boy
oh baby boy
you will continue to be."
am i?
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