Our names identify us
Last names connect families
Names can mean leaving a legacy
Some names are fun and bubbly
Some names leave our lips fumbling
Names can spark harsh memories
Or the best moments of our lives
Names can give us a sense of belonging
Or leave us with some feeling of longing
Names are versatile
Easily changed or worn for a while
They are gifts given to every newborn child
Names are kept on each and every file
They give you your particular style
So whether you've changed your name
Or kept the one from birth
You're always just you
And your name was who you were first

My gender isn’t a choice

My sexuality isn’t a choice

It doesn’t make me a freak

I’m sorry if you feel that way

But I’m not.

At least, not because of that.

People are born as they are

It has nothing to do with how I was raised,

Because my dad?

He’s transphobic and homophobic

He raised me on that **** bible

He said I must comply

That it was the one true law

The only thing I need ever believe in

That I exist only because it exists.

I found it a little backwards, then

That he was so **** unsupportive

Because doesn’t that book tell you

To love your neighbor?

To love all like He loves you?

To treat others with respect and dignity?

Repeatedly?

But no,

My father, like many others,

Chooses to quote one mistranslated passage

One that was supposed to say “…man lies with boy…”

Not “man lies with man”

Not “homosexuality is a sin”.

But you know what?

If homosexuality is a sin

And gay people are going to burn in hell

Then at least I’ll be with my friends

My people

Those who understand.

I hope I get my own private sector of hell

Away from the ******* who abused me and bullied me and taunted me

My whole life

Because they don’t deserve to breathe

(Do you breathe in hell?)

The same air as me.

They don’t deserve to be graced with my presence

Or those of my friends.

I hope that my friends and I

Party it up in our little section of hell.

I’d rather be a sinner

And burn in hell

For being who I really am

Than fake it

And lie to myself

To join a bunch of insufferable know-it-alls

In what my dad calls

“Heaven”.

We are human

I didn’t make a choice

I didn’t want this

It just happened

I exist

Even though sometimes I don’t want to

Because this just gets way too hard

I am a boy.

Yeah, I still get my periods

I still have long hair

And these stupid ****

(I can’t wait to get rid of those)!

But I’m a guy.

Pronouns?

Oh!

Those are he/him.

Name?

Olliver Orion.

But you can call me Olli.

I don’t follow any specific religion.

I’m not atheist, either.

I’m kind of a skeptic

But I’m not sure what exactly to believe.

I kinda just am.

Problem?

Oh well.

**** it.

out of everyone
it could've been anyone
but i was chosen for this task that no one wants.
as i walk to the door
i wonder why
as i turn the ****
i wonder why
as the dreaded creak means my entrance is now
i wonder
why.

dragged in here
i float
as i hear people scream
defending their side
i just can't decide
but maybe they aren't screaming
i think that might be me
because of the pain it brings
when they pull me in their opposite directions..
until i fall apart
but i was never really together.

raw in pieces
they keep giving me evidence
to prove that they are right
right about me

i guess i'm the guest
that doesn't want to be here
but they sure feel like unwanted guests
inside my head.

"she's a girl"
"he's a boy"
"because of this"
"because of that"
this can't be true
that can't be true

i'm just an observer
in this court room
but then why am i in the center?

i'm was picked at random,
the chosen one
and i really wish i wasn't.

I am standing on a staircase, on the seventeenth step,
but the eighteenth onwards has no bannister,
up until now, I've had a safety net,
something to lean on when
the steps aren't lit properly.

'Now', I tell myself,
'I've seen people who have fallen
and manage to grip to the edge
and pull up...towards the next'.
'But I've seen people fall
and never get up'.

I say;
'Am I another statistic?
Am I another failure?
Am I another mangled corpse for the cleaners?
Or...
Am I going to lift my leg and take that step?
Am I to ignore the thoughts?
Am I stronger than I let myself think?'

I lift my leg.

Upwards and onwards, I guess.

do you know how it feels
to be like me-
to lie and fight the wrongness
of your skin and bones
to feel fake
like an alien inhabiting your own shell
like a square peg in a round hole.
your face is a mask,
your name, a false label.
the most devastating betrayal is
the betrayal of your voice.
other parts feel empty, missing,
broken, burdensome, weak.
an inextinguishable sadness
lingers in your veins-
just enough to sting.

do you know how it feels?

i think you do

you are a human
your body is also a
prison

You gave your baby life,
so, tell me this;
why would you want to take it away
over something as simple
as love?

Her shoes are lost,
one in the closet, one out of the door,
one step to freedom before her parents
pick them up and throws them,
oblivious to the bang when they hit the wall.

BANG;
the knocking of adolescent hands,
on the closet door.

BANG;
the knocking that fell on deaf ears,
when the tears and pleas weren't sufficient.

BANG;
the children that want a chance at living their lives
in the warm embrace of their parents
arms,

and not in the warm embrace
of the fire;

burning their coffin to the ground.

i feel like i cant breathe
most of the time

maybe its the tight binder
on my ribs
maybe its the suffocating thoughts
that tell me im not good enough
maybe its all the stares
that i know are questioning my gender

i wish i could tell you it gets easier
every time someone calls me a girl
when im wearing all mens clothes, a binder, and short hair
but it doesnt
it gets worse

so much worse

no matter the effort i put in
how hard i try
to present as masculine as possible
at the point where i cant even
see anything feminine about myself anymore

im always seen as the thing
that will always break me down

sometimes i think
it would be easier to take it all back
say im a girl and dress like one
at least then
ill be seen as how im trying to

ill hide behind a mask
say im something that im not

because arent i doing that already?
saying im okay and that it doesnt matter
when someone calls me a girl?
putting on  fake smile
and act like it doesnt feel
like someone took my spirit
and covered it
with the wrong color paint

i feel like i shouldnt be myself
most of the time