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Casey Sep 2019
Prompt: Explain the story behind a picture from your camera roll
(date of picture taken: August 30th, 2019)

The picture is a simple mirror selfie, but the story has more to do with what I was wearing.
Earlier that day, I went to the mall to shop for my homecoming outfit with
my friend, (REDACTED).
It seems trivial to someone else, I guess, but to me, it was a big deal.
It was because I could drive and because we were at the mall against
my dad's wishes that added to my nervousness of it all.
I went to the boy's section of the clothing store because I'm really short,
and (REDACTED) helped me pick out a suit.
My first suit.
Just wearing the suit jacket, I couldn't help but smile like an idiot.
It was so....right.
I don't know how else to explain it.
It was as if all those little pieces just fell into place and everything felt
all right.
For once, everything in that moment felt good and perfect.
I didn't care about the curious looks from the middle-aged moms.
I felt....euphoric?
Gender euphoria.
Noah Apr 2019
I've tried to tell you before,
I shouldn't have to say it again
I'm suffocating in the lies
Each one a knife
The blood spills down

My 'body' is a cage in which I tear
The bars replaced every time one falls down  
Each time I hear my 'name' I think I die a little bit more
How much longer until I'm completely dead inside
I don't know if I'm even still alive
The blood mixes with the tears spilling out of me

I hide in my closet
It's dark in my closet
I can't see myself in my closet
No one can harm me here
But I'm still suffocating
Elliot Kemp Jul 2018
People never see me.
To society, I don't exist.
Even when I bind myself so tight I cant breath,
Even when I shave my head
And pump myself full of hormones to the point I get sick,
All they do is pat my head and tell me I'm a silly girl.
Once I meet the right man they say,
I'll lose my confusion and be happy with my large ******* and generous hips.
I'll be happy raising my children and keeping house and kissing my husband when he gets home.
They look at my girlfriend with disdain and call her a phase,
They hear me begging for pronouns and simply shake their heads.
I'm forced into frilly dresses and forbidden from my bathrooms.
They put the gun to my head even as they say they're trying to help.
All they see is the identity they've forced upon me,
And people never see ME.
Angst for the soul.
Luzita Pomé Jul 2018
You call me
She, Her, Daughter, Girl
You speak with a blind mouth,
Look at me, see me
She isn't me,
Only a fantasy that you clutch till your knuckles grow pale.
I am not broken, I am free
But you hide behind a veil
Afraid to finally let go of...

Long hair, Lipstick, Lace dress
You question each time I show you my truth,
"Are you trying to hide your femininity?"
No, my femininity is simply not my definition.
Spend a day in my skin, in my cage,
And don't cry when the words start to pierce you like daggers,
Shhhh... Stay silent, don't worry, it's just a phase.
Now do you see that "She" just doesn't make sense?
You speak to me but your voice seems distant,
Bouncing off of me and echoing
Like I am the hollow statue of the girl you used to see.
"I am right in front of you, you know"
But my words are only heard when they come from her lips.
Do you see me now?

Mother, Children, Wife, Woman
A silent prayer each night for all the things I am not,
Stomach swollen, hair to my waist
The glow of an expecting mother on my face.
Curves, not edges,
Pink, not blue.
Delicate hands grasping the man who stands in my place.
Do you see me now?

Pants swollen, hair to my brow,
Along my jaw,
Down my legs,
Sprouting from my toes.
Do you see me now?
Bulged, Buzzed, Boy
Blood on my sheets, not between my legs
Stained by the girl who lies in her place
Fresh coat of gel and cologne,
Swirls of shaving cream.
Bare chest, Burning skin
Twitch of an Adam's apple when breath comes short,
Nervous fidgets with a tie,
tick tock,
"Pick me up at eight"
"Treat her right" "I will sir"
"Will you be my..."
"You're going to be a father!"
"You are the best daughter we could have asked for"
...."Son" I whispered.
But you didn't hear,
Please tell me
Do you see me now?
Any one who can relate to this but can’t say it, I hope I can be your voice.
oliver o Jun 2018
there are nights
in which 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
and we are merged
and we are divided
we are overly aware of our limbs
yet we cannot feel them at all
my body does not love me
she returns
making herself home in my belly and *******
there is something familiar about it
something comfortable
like sinking and floating at the same time
the cold and the dark and the deep
carrying me off to places unspeakable
embracing me
sealing me up as if i were a letter
and it an envelope
i am sent with no return address
and my heart sighs the song of my wonder
if this body will ever be mine
oliver o Jun 2018
man in the bathroom
why are you staring at me
i’m meant to be here
oliver o Jun 2018
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
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 2018
i miss the sadness
i miss the home that never was
the beautiful you never thought you were

where has your pretty gone
who’s wearing your flowered dress now
whose lips are your boyfriends kissing
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 unlucky occurrence for him to sleep with on the couch
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 ***** 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 the way you looked
every night you cried
the colour mascara makes when it meets blood
like drugstore lipstick
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

pretty girl
why would you ruin yourself like this
happy girl
how couldn’t you see it for yourself
you were a trophy
your future said husband
it said children
it said the life we want for you
forget your own

you were not happy
but how can you learn to be now
that place that played safe haven
at least, was warm

you are not sure if you miss the sadness
you simply know
this world wants you to
Phoenix Mar 2018
There is a boy that lives
in my closet.
I keep him in a Nike shoebox
next to my skeletons and
other things I’m trying to
get rid of.
Day by day I guard the door
to my closet
in fear of what you’ll say
when you realize
he’s not another thing
you can control.
I beg and hope that he’ll stay
inside my
but each time I let him out
it gets harder to keep him in
because now he knows
there’s something outside his
confined life.
Because now he knows
there is a world of dazzling color
and loud laughter
and he isn’t satisfied like he used to be.
So each time I leave my home
he escapes into the way I talk
or the binder on my chest
and it scares me that I can’t seem to
hide him anymore.
There was a time when I
wasn’t afraid
to let him be seen.
We used to play together,
back when we didn’t realize
you were staring at us in horror,
whispering my difference in each other's ears.
But just because he was visible
doesn’t mean he was seen
instead all you could see was a confused girl,
a “tomboy”.
But you say
I’m getting too old
to be a tomboy.
Last night you crept
into my closet
a gun in your hand
and uttered those ten painful words
I could not bear:
“You’re going to high school
as a girl next year.”
And for each word
there was a bullet wound
bleeding water from my eyes
and screams from my throat
I woke up to find locks on my closet,
a reminder that
all the courage I’d worked up to tell you
about the boy I was hiding
was a wasted effort.
The boy pounds his fists
against the empty walls
but I can only helplessly cry
for the person I wish I was.
btw the "you" in this poem is my parents
Matthew Vargas Oct 2017
Sorry to disappoint you, mother, father
But I'm not your daughter
Sorry classmates, I'm not a her
I'm a sir.
I've spread these wings, I'm ready for flight
And if necessary, I'm ready to fight
I'm sick and tired of hiding
I'm through with denying
This is me
I will be true to my heart
Nothing will shatter my pride apart.
I'm a boy. I'm a man.
And someday family, I hope you understand.
I wrote this and I'm gonna start posting more trans and queer related stuff woo!
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