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.
