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Elliott 6d
A seemingly fine day ruined with one headline.
Then another. And another. And by the time my phone stops buzzing the news couldn't be any clearer.

We lost a battle today. A battle for basic humanity, a battle to our own autonomy.

"Women" lost. "Women" should be afraid. "Women". "Women". "Women".

Every headline I read talks about how scary the world is for women.

Yes, the world is scary for women...or anyone with a ******.

I don't want to make this about me. Because it's not. It's about every transgender man that fights for healthcare on a daily basis. It's about every non-binary person assigned female at birth who can get pregnant.

and's about women.

It's about people (men and women) who think their ideals should determine what I do with my body.

It's about every pastor, minister, judge, and human being who feels they have a say in how my life is lived.

Poetry has always been and will always be political.

Poetry is art and art is expression of feeling.

Today....I'm ******.
I'm overwhelmed with a feeling of dread.

The same feeling of dread I felt during the 2016 election.
The same feeling of dread I felt the night of the Pulse Orlando shootings.
The same feeling of dread I feel every time I think of wearing my trans pride shirt out in public.

I'm not afraid to say how absolutely terrified I am....I'm just afraid for whatever is coming next.


- Your friendly ****** having transman.
Injustice isn't even the half of it
Filomena May 9
I don't know what to say.
This is horrible and terrifying.
To ***** out the hope and joy of so many children.
To criminalize the support of their wellbeing.

Death will come from this.
Children choosing death as they see their existence outlawed.
Supporters of such laws know what they are doing.

You know who you are.
Written in response to the criminalization of trans- related healthcare for minors in Alabama.
Lemon Apr 1
When I have no mirror
And my thoughts run free
I am suddenly a monster
and no longer me

When I'm surrounded by a crowd
My bones splinter out
My elbows bend backwards
And my voice is a shout

Though I know it's not true
I know I'm no beast
Voices race through my head
And greedily they feast

I'll bend over forwards
To cave into my chest
To make myself smaller
So maybe they'll rest

And when I'm finally home
No that cant be
In the mirror I look
Unable to see

Who is that kid
Whose eyes I see
How pretty he is
But that's not me
Basically my body dysmorphia is really bad and even though I know realistically what I look like, my brain still tells me that my elbows are too knobby and my arms are too skinny. When I sit at my desk I feel like my knees stick out funny and my back arches too much. Funnily enough, because I always think I'm slouching even when I'm not, I subconsciously always straighten my back so my posture is really good
Filomena Feb 28
You can't erase your face.
You can't retrace or displace
the lines you dislike.
Some people try. Why?
At best it makes a mess.

Why am I upset by a little extra bone?
The external effects of my natural testosterone?
How can a bit of unwanted hair excite despair?
Why do I care?

I pointlessly worry
about silly points
like the size of my shoulders
or my knee and thumb joints.
My hairline, my brow ridge,
the shape of my nose,
my masculine pelvis,
my crooked man toes...


My eyes are fine --
My only feature I like.
My shy smile is alright
but not too wide
'cause of my overbite --
-- the size of those incisors!

Now, some would say that I'm just vain,
so self-obsessed I've gone insane.
But I would say that's how we're trained,
At least in this day and age.

Others might paint me like Dorian Gray
praying to Satan for youth to stay,
but I just wish it hadn't gone this way.

Why would you keep your looks immutable
if you were never to begin with beautiful?
Nov. 2018 - Feb. 2022
I wrote most of this poem from a pre-transition perspective.
My circumstances and perspective have changed a fair bit.
I tried to emulate the original perspective in my later additions.
Filomena Jan 29
My Body cannot Cry,
but my Soul Screams Eternally
Nov. 2018
It seems to be a common experience for pre/non-HRT trans women to feel like they *should* cry when they are upset, but are physically unable to.
Filomena Jan 27
Vocal ingenuity
A generous gratuity
I wish could be removed from me
But I would still write poetry

--Which someone else would have to read
As from the page the inkblots plead
"Give us a voice!" the letters said
Without a voice they would be dead

But no-one reads my poetry
And so its voice is left to me
To show the World, or just to try
Be truly heard before I die
Written Jan 2022.
Elliott Jan 21
What does it mean to be a man?

A hush quiets the room.

Seriously, what does it mean? I asked.

Because I've searched online forums and the trolls don't have much right to say,

I'd ask my father as if he would know himself,

I look at celebrities, friends, strangers, and yet I still wonder....

What does it mean to be a man?

Heaven help me because role models are hard to find. If God created sinners he must have made men with a special idea in mind.

Why do I desire something that is so hard to understand?

So tell me, what does it really mean to be a man?
Finn Dec 2021
It hurts my spirit
and soul
Being chained to this
Earthly body
Trapped in this
Plane of being
When my spirit is made of
white hot flame
imploding stars
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