Constantly fighting.
Sometimes it’s easier just to give in.
To stay silent, save your voice, don’t
Shout into the coming gales.

Running against the wind,
We all get pushed back sometimes,
Doubting whether it would do any good.
We keep quiet, terrified of speaking up.

But child.
Telling truths is the light switch,
The calm after a storm.

Follow your heart. Breathe in, breathe out.
Make your own wind.

Shout it from mountaintops,
Scream it in storms.
Whisper it in the cool dark of the night.

It’s okay. I am too.
I’m trans. I’m bi.
I
Left to myself I finally look up to the mirror. Tear runs through cheek.

II
Crying back to me my reflection listens as noone has before.

III
"Look deeper" she cries. Darkness dwells where nothing dwells.

IV
Past my glasses, past the glass of the mirror, past my glasses. My eyes' look at my eyes is the only thing  have left.

V
My body's body demands attention. Silent scream in the twilight of spring.

VI
A second tear runs across my facial hair, and it knows itself a stranger.

VII
Stepping down my eyes I see my body. My body that is not my body. My body and nothing more.

VIII
My paper gets wet as a man's hand grips my pen and writes. A stranger's hand.

IX
Chest up and down, the man's body refuses my call for change.

X
And my body that is not my body moves along with my body's mirror.

XI
My manly jaw opens the silence up, and my mirror cries out. I dive in to help.

XII
I continue to step down into the night. There's nothing to look up to where I came from.

XIII
And the echoes of the well hear out my name, my real name. There is wind at the bottom of my heart.

XIV
As I dug deeper into my reflection's eyes, I reach a wooden floor. Nothing but stone saw me prior.

XV
When I look in the mirror, I am there.

XVI
A lonely little girl shivers back to me. I am alone yet I am the one that shivers.

XVII
When I step onto the wood it cracks. The girl looks at me and moves away from the light of my eyes.

XVIII
I follow. My soul cries. It is the girl that cries. It is I who cries. No surprise, I was the girl all along.

XIX
I caress the girl and take it upwards through my mirror's skin. Here it will suffer.
As I keep reading along "Extracting the stone of madness" by Alejandra Pizarnik I stumble upon a collection of 19 short textes called "Los caminos del espejo"~Ways of the mirror, so I decide to write something similar. I didn't expect to get this profound to be honest. If you like my reflection on Pizarki's poems I have now a collection of them. Also definitely check out the original as it is now translated into English.
Yes I am ace, do you know what I mean?
I need to be out there, I want to be seen.
I have done before and I may do again.
I can't say who with nor can I say when.
Now click on the heart,
say you like my feed.
Though needing you more,
you're more than I need.

Poetry by Kaydee.
I'm a flexible, romantic asexual t-girl & a therapeutic poet learning to live again.
Ray 7d
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From: (ФwФ )##@grail.com

Subject: Extra Extra

I am not what you expect. Enter the domain of genderless body.
Bodies, and clothes, are naught but shells with contradiction swarmed,
Our reality and love and life trapped within.
We are allowed to scream, to claw.
I am no man. No woman.
You cannot guess me by any means.
Nonbinary.
oliver o Jun 14
there are nights
when my body plays cage
the space we take up feels too much
everything numbs
and that feeling returns
the one i can only describe as burning
my body does not love me
she returns
to make herself home in my belly
there’s something familiar about it
the sting on your thighs
comforting me
oliver o Jun 14
man in the bathroom
why are you staring at me
i’m meant to be here
oliver o Jun 13
i wanna be that
hit me hard
daredevil soul
feel his arms
trophy boy

i wanna be that
little taller
dream boat
punk rock
pretty boy

i wanna be that
inspiration
i know him
actor's heart
poet boy

i wanna be that
chin dusted
heart surgery
straight down
testosterone boy

i wanna be that boy
i wanna be me

but i can never be that boy
if it's true that boys don't cry
oliver o Jun 13
in a way
i miss the sadness
i miss the home that never was
the beautiful you never thought you were
where did your pretty go
who's wearing your flowered dress now
who's lips are your boyfriends kissing
what will you do with no gorgeous to hide behind
who could've known this was to come
i miss your father's pride
when you gave him a reason to be sober
now all you are is disappointment
another bad situation for him to hold close to him
his favourite drinking buddy
i miss church
i miss the red the pastor turned you
the blood running to your holy cheeks
when the congregation applauded
at the fact that you would burn for this
that this secret would be the end of you
the vomit that came up in that bathroom
the god that frowned upon the smell
i miss the way boys used to look at you
when you were something to be desired
when you made others feel more than just confused
when you weren't an inconvenience to love
you'd rather your innocence be stolen for being beautiful
than for being unwanted
i suppose you pick your poison
i miss when dysphoria's name was starving
when you had something more convenient to not talk about
your taboo was less taboo
when 'now this' was two-fold and not four
when you were more scared of your own thoughts
than you were of others
i miss the way you looked
every night when you cried
your mascara stained cheeks
your blood stained hips
your grief stained heart
at least there was something gorgeous
something romantic about it
the way the moonlight made your bones stick out
it was something boys could fall in love with
you were such a pretty girl
why'd you ruin yourself like this
you were such a happy girl
how couldn't you see it for yourself
you were a trophy
don't you want a husband
don't you want children
don't you want the life we want for you and not your own
you were not happy
but how can you learn to be now
that space that played safe haven
at least, was warm
you don't know if you miss the sadness
you just know
this world wants you to
Ashton Jun 12
I feel broken
in my own bones.
I want to get out of my skin.
I want to change the unchangeable

my chest
my hips
my voice
my face
my everything
feels wrong.

I feel like
crawling out of skin
ripping my chest off
running away from my body.

I just want it gone.
Just let this pain end.
let this suffering end.
I'm feeling dysphoric as hell
zero Jun 6
I always expected more
than what I could ever get.
I woke up and smiled;
convinced; this is home.
This is it. All I ever wanted
and needed in this world,
here in this tiny space.
I can't remember when
I last did something
great. Meaningful.
Something you could be
proud of. Smiles and Pleas.
Like the sound of the bird outside
my window; fluttering like
a flag in the wind.
One gust could set her sail.
Set her free.
One slice of the knife sends the
carrot top rolling off the board;
onto the floor. Knock, Knock,
Knocking in panic on
the bathroom door.
One pull of the trigger
and I'll be asleep.
Far away from me...
Or rather...who I became in the end.
I swear it isn't.

-Kinac.xo
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