What can I do
If my birthday suit
Is inside out and backwards?

What can I say
If every day
I'm forced to be an actor?

Why should I be
Where they'd rather see
Me hanging from a rafter?

How can I live
And just forgive
The ones who call me *******?

Am I preordained
To wear this chain
Keep living like a captor?

Where should I flee
If all I see
Is one endless tragic chapter?

Mother wept for weeks when you died.
Her cries rang throughout the house
as if she had put a microphone up to her mouth.
She demanded to know why I killed her daughter.
Where was the daughter who wore floral skirts to spin around in?
Where was the daughter who wore shimmering gold makeup as a way to be pretty?
Where was the daughter that begged for her hair braided like Katniss every morning?
She demanded answers but I don’t know if you actually ever existed.

I know you tried to exist.
I know you kept trying to stop me from ‘taking your place’
by devouring every feminine stereotype you could find.
I couldn’t live repressed under emotions you refused to address.
I couldn’t survive as you tried every title besides the correct one.
I couldn’t stand the sight of you in the mirror or photos
I still can’t.

Maybe I did **** you as I cut my hair shorter than you wanted.
I killed you by throwing out all your favorite clothing items.
I killed you by no longer letting you be the ideal daughter.
I killed you just like I started to **** our family.
All it took was a simple letter saying I wasn’t a girl, but instead a boy.
The silent treatment felt more like a punishment for wanting to be me.
I was cut off while I still lived in the same house as them.
The only thing is that I would **** you again,
but only if I got to see you crumble away every time.

Bedroom’s painted fisherman’s blue

There’s a cut out of Hayden Panettiere naked in a pink bikini with a hula-hoop on the back of the door

Copies of British Vogue desperately hidden underneath the bed accompanying an empty bottle of Glen’s

Manchester United duvet cover and matching pillows to boot

The bin’s filled with pre-packed home-made lunches from the last six months

Wardrobes a collection of ill fitting blue jeans bought for me by grandmother and football jerseys for teams that I’ve never even heard of, yet let alone see play a single game

Uniform ironed and sitting out ready for school on Monday at 8am sharp

***** clothes cover mostly all the floor smelling of Lynx’s finest even though there’s an empty laundry basket just waiting in the corner to be used

Inside one of the woolen blazer’s (that is way too big for me) pockets a single unopened ****** and an AES 256-bit encrypted USB stick

An old PlayStation 2, with a single controller; games including FIFA years through 2004 to now, Tom Clancy’s Splinter Cell, and GTA.

Blood red shoplifted lipstick that’s now melted hidden in the little secret compartment at the back, meant for network expansion.

Artemis Fowl, Alex Rider, and Harry Potter all adorn the bookcase

Physics, Maths, and IT textbooks remain firmly closed on the desk in addition to a smashed phone from me and Daddy’s last “physical altercation”

Lady Gaga’s “I Like it Rough” is playing in the background on repeat…

Tears dried on your caramel cheeks
Wondering why there’s so much to be scared of
Thinking about escaping to a better place

Where you do not feel like a burden
Where you had not been a mistake
Where you are not scared of being condemned

But you already had to accept
There’s no where to go and no one to turn to

You have family as reliable as a bike with a broken chain
Friends who are scared of you
And a brain that has not yet developed

Through the terrifying thoughts
Horrible memories
And flat out traumatizing events

You are still fighting

I know most day hurt being in the wrong body
I know most days you just wish you’d been born right

I know that one day you’ll be getting closer
To being able to present how you want

I know you’re scared

But there’s something I need to tell you
Something I need you to trust
Dry your cheeks and listen to me

you are now loved
and
you will be okay

there is nothing wrong with who you are
you’re allowed to be you
we are two months on testosterone and becoming the man we’ve always knew we were

I’m so proud of you

what is life
what am I doing
to complain of doing the same but make no push to do different
it feels miserable that my life is a broken record on repeat
bottles of water in my room judge
so does all the food
they watch as I suffer in silence
my head feels like it's swelling with emotions unreleased
it's so heavy to pick up
I rather rest in bed
with a body already so restless
sleep does nothing for it
I feel like ****
and I can't escape this room
suffocating by the binds of guidelines
drowning in uncomfort of my home
I barely bathe
three times a week if lucky
I hold in my *** because I don't like the way my ***** hits the water
I pinch my ears so I don't have to hear
I jab earphones in so I feel invisible when I leave my room to eat
I blast music so it deafens the depressing state of my reality
the only peace I feel
is when I drift into sleep
only then my reality becomes something more manageable
so why shouldn't I sleep forever?

what makes you feel granted
manhandling my memories
stirring up my experience
diagnosing with no credentials
gaslighting feelings of fear
forcing to question what happened
mind entering a storm
chaos now runs free roam
flashbacks and dreams
dialogue and overwhelming voices
speaking over another
talking me into a box
leaving me there alone
he pulls the chain around it
and imprisons me with a lock

my teeth chatter when I’m anxious
body starts to shake
hands begin to clench
skin feels wave of heat
and I start to feel faint
stomach tells me I’m in danger
heart throbbing in concert with a clock
my face emotionless and stale
as I try to mask what puts me in more danger
of not feeling collected and vulnerable
trusted if I break a sweat they’ll see
make a sudden movement and touch
touch my soft skin marked with scars
I question which body part is next
as I sit in a freezing shock
that limits my movement
ability to think
and speak
as hands go and *****
I scream so loud
but nobody hears me
I am silent
lips unmoved
internal thoughts crying
there is so much to say
but I can’t get myself to speak
and I want those ***** hands off
but I can’t seem to move
body paralyzed
I start unpacking this to the darkness
never to be opened for my safety
throwing away the feelings
destroying what it felt like
is better than keeping it alive
so please
don’t touch me like that

when i look at you
it fills the despondent void
of what i didn't have

when i look at you
it fills space to love harder
needed from the past

when i look at you
i am full of happiness
no longer helpless

when i look at you
there's a kid celebrating
those victories fought

he is a spirit
who goes to rest knowingly
that you avenged him