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?

if jesus died for all our sins

he left one behind

the body i'm in

same hands that made

the moon and the stars

got carpal tunnel

and forgot some parts

I engage in transness
but with no emphasis on transition
I am not one to the other
I am on a continuum that can't be defined
to male or female
if I opened up on what parts define me
you'd be in for a while
my transness is not fixed
my transness is evergrowing and bountiful
it doesn't stop at male or female
I've passed what it means to be trans
I've ran the marathon
and won at the finish line
transness has it's own path
not what cisgender people decide
I live in a revelation of social control
by what's under inclusivity
the performance of transitioning is over
I engage in transness
and I exist with no finish line

To transition is to attend your own funeral time and time again in hopes of allowing yourself the delicacy of being truly known
Identity becomes a public affair and day to day life reads like a eulogy
Imagine you are the corpse, the coffin, and the church your body rests in
You haven't lost yourself just, killed that version and put her inside a box for only her dearly beloved to see
You now become the house in which they’re prepping her body for eternal sleep
You are the final destination
The one stop shop for little girls who become boys overnight
I became him over night and the next morning i wrote her eulogy
Its been almost five years since girl became boy and i am still giving her eulogy
I am speaking of a little girl to people that only know the grown man she died to be and i am so incredibly tired of doing so
I see family and the remnants of the little girl i was believed to be and i am forced to take part in their mourning
Every day feels like the day after you lose someone you loved
There are bits and pieces of her around my house, and my mind, and even my body but she is gone
She has been gone for almost five years and i am still attending her funeral
There is no longer a corpse, coffin, and church just a man her memories rest in
I am the man her memories rest in yet i put her to rest long ago
I need the world to do the same, for my dearly beloved to do the same
For we are gathered here today not to mourn the loss of a daughter, a sister, or niece
We are here to celebrate the gaining of a son, a brother, and a nephew
I am celebrating the birth of me and giving her eulogy in the same breath and i am tired of doing so
See i am left carrying the grief of a person who still exists
I exist
Changed but still present, still breathing
There never was a corpse, a coffin, or a church
There was only ever me, my body, and the world around me

How long has it been since I put this pen to paper?
My works have dried, as empty as the soul that wrote them.
I've come so far, yet gone nowhere. Should I write on, as per?
Scratch out bitter whines and cough them up like phlegm
Intoxicated by blood and hate and scream at God?
Those were the actions of a fallen soul. A child lost in data
Too cluttered and obtuse to see past the firing squad
Of my own accursed creation. I was undone, in beta,
Unreleased because I wasn't yet ready to be me.
Everything about me was wrong, hidden deep
Within smoke and fog I made myself so I could be
Whatever I needed to be. But the truth will seep.

And maybe now I'm ready.
I'm ready to be Her.
Maybe now I'm ready to write.

you put your faith into her
yeah you gave her the world
she promised that she'd do right by you
you taught her things like
little girls never hike up their skirts
girls don't wear shirts
they wear dresses and blouses
do their hair in pigtails
and make homes out of houses
paid for by their husbands

but what if he told you the truth
told you she went away with his youth
she was gone but he would take her place
and he
wants to be
someone you could learn to love
if it was me
id see to it that he
knew that he was enough
he just wants to know he's loved

somewhere else
he reaches for the high shelf
he carries the heavy loads
and he watches as time goes by
he can't help but cry
what if he asked for help
asked to end the life he was delt
begged for you to look past the body he never asked for

what if she told you her new name
would you turn her away
because just the other day
she was the little boy you raised

and she
wants to be
someone you could learn to love
if it was me
id see to it that she
knew that she was enough
she just wants to know she's loved

and they
want to stay
in your good graces
don't say they're going through phases
don't take away their happy places
just because you don't get it
doesn't mean they have to regret being alive