I feel like Pinocchio
made of wood,  held up by strings,
hoping to be a real boy
but never reaching my goal.
Wishing for my own fairy godmother.
To be saved from the whale inside of me.
This darkness in my soul
Devouring every good thought.
And every speck of light.
I have water filling up my lungs now.
No land in sight
I am driftwood,
Floating in the sea
I strain to see past the darkness
Still wishing my impossible wish
Hoping to be a real boy.

White shirt, grey lining,
Cotton and spandex binding
This skin, to make me feel whole
You can see I'm half-alive,
My demise I fantasise
Your restrictions are a chain on my soul
I know what my needs are,
Despite your laments.
This second skin will see me through
Your baseless arguments

Don't try to explain to me
All the ways I'm due to burn
Because I've seen enough of that
In this world alone
And I should know,
I don't need your help
Your king will march me into hell himself
And I will greet you at those fiery gates
It seems neither of us could rise above our hate
When my people enter, I will greet them all by name
See, our circles hold a special kind of fame

Among the lucky ones,
Blue, pink and white
We'll be torn apart if they see us,
So it's easier to hide
But how do you hide when your disguise
Is a poison, a pain so deep?
An uphill Battle, hauling lead,
Why D'you think so many accept defeat?
Don't deny us our medication
You're causing more asphyxiation
I have but one consolidation:
That this is my problem
And not yours

My skin doesn't feel right
it doesn't feel right to breathe.
It doesn't feel right to wear a dress.
It doesn't feel right what in the mirror, I see.
This body doesn't belong to me.
These lips are not mine.
The luscious hair I cut off, still not mine.
My grandmother calls me two-spirit.
I call myself an error.
Because you see,
I am a boy.
Stuck in a girl's body.

We transgenders are not *****,
nor *******.
We transgenders are not tools,
nor autistic or *******.
It is not funny to spit at us.
Or stick notes on our back.
It is not funny to misgender us,
or harass and assault.
It is like we are a fish out of water.
Watching everyone swim.
As we suffocate and die.
See, we transgenders are just like you.
And you see,
We all speak it.
The truth.

i am the snow
i am cold, unwelcoming
yet i am played with
                                  walked on
                                                   molded
and when the sun tells me to melt, i do
im thrown around in playful jest
by people i don’t know
please stop
                   im hurt
                              i cant keep up with you
but eventually, they grow tired of me
they go inside, drink their cider, leave me
                          to shiver
           to freeze
to die?
so i try to leave a mark
and the grass is greener
and the birds come out
and the flowers bloom
            is better without me?
but i know theres a kid
who sits on his porch
pen in hand, paper in the other
who loves the cold
who’d **** to lay in the snow, face up
                                    and watch
                    his breath
and imagine
that he is a dragon that rules the world
i live for him
and i know theres a kid
who cries in their bathroom
wondering why they aren’t skinny
after they haven’t ate for
so
   ****
            long
who takes cold showers
to watch their skin turn blue
because they feel like they deserve it
they say the cold helps them think
they’re mostly right
i live for them
and i know theres a kid
looking in her mirror
wondering why she looks bad in makeup
                     in dresses
in everything
wondering who she is
but still trying to care for everyone else
even though she will never understand
their pain, their problems
she focuses on others
so she doesn’t have to confront her sins
i live for her
his imagination
their mind
her heart
i am pulled in different directions
my body is filled with cold dysphoria
icy spikes that shoot through my brain and
my heart and
my lungs
is this just a phase?
i ask myself, in front of the cross
i bully myself because i’m the sinner
is this just a phase?
i ask myself, in front of my friends
am i doing this to get attention?
is this just a phase?
i cant tell
for i am the snow
and i melt under pressure

to be trans is to have you live expectancy slipt into half
to be trans is being homesick in your body
to be trans is being hated by people ** claim to preach love

to be trans is beautiful
to be trans is beautiful
to be trans is beautiful
I repeat myself because I am trying to convince myself
to be trans is beautiful

mom i am trying to tell you something
i didn't **** your daughter
i cant **** a person who never existed

if only you knew how hard it is to know
that i will never be free
if only you knew how it feels to need to
claw my skin off

i am tired of waking up
knowing who i am
while everyone uses the wrong name
the wrong pronouns
because no, it is not just a pronoun
it is validation and i know I shouldn't
need that **** but
i do