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In silence
You'll find true self

How long
You have been lost
Ultimately matters
You'll realize
To be grateful to
Night sky
Faithful pray
The air
The water

That very moment
You'll authenticate
Your falls
Your losses
Your hurts
All with a pride

You'll conclude
Why loosing is winning
At the end
Genre: Inspirational
Theme: Self Exploration
Grab your supplies,
two needles, six alcohol pads and
the Wonder Woman bandaids you bought
to feel brave.
Remind yourself to buy a box for mom
next time you supermarket shop.

Curse under your breath,
its left thigh week and
you know the left thigh really hates T
Message your group chat,
Ask them to pump you up
so you can ignore needle induced palpitations—
are my ribs caging my heart or protecting it?
Refocus yourself; now is not the time
for existential thoughts

Fill the syringe with the eighteen gauge,
and then drop that sucker into
the ancient bottle of vanilla coke
filled with used needles.
Change to the twenty-five gauge,
refresh your music page.
Is it a Queen or All Time Low shot day?

Wipe your leg down,
not once, not thrice,
but five times—
As you stare between the needle,
your thigh, your needle, and again
the thigh.
Count to three,
and in it goes,
not so bad—it never is.

Repeat every Sunday.
A piece from my creative writing class
Thomas EG Feb 9
I'd always been a little bearcub
Feeling my paws crunch the twigs and mulsh of the forest floor
Seasons are changing, though
I'm finally standing up on my hind legs
Raising my hands high, speaking up for the first time
Hoping that maybe you can hear me now
Letting my growls grow, my echo, rumbling through the trees
Feeling the breeze in my hair
Knowing that I am home
~Finally started my medical transition and my voice is starting to drop~
Thomas Mackie Jan 20
Fangs are sprouting from my skull,
you cannot stop what must be done.
Bound indoors with curtains drawn,
until moon takes the place of sun.

Needle sharp teeth puncture your skin,
the transformation has begun.
I whisper something in your ear,
your human form and gender, none.

When coven blood out-thickens water,
we have just started all the fun.
Vampires have to stick together,
no mother, father, daughter, son.
This poem is meant to create a parallel between the transgender experience and that of a vampire. The duality between two different transformations both fueled by puncture wounds, as well as the pattern that happens after you come out. Once one person in a community is out of the closet, oftentimes others follow because they feel safer to do so. This is not a critique of my community. Trans folks are not monsters. However, sometimes we are ostracized and treated as if we were. I think I'd be proud to be a vampire, too.
I have faced down
the existential anguish
that drives lovers
to padlock themselves within.
I have woven blankets
to warm my cold shoulders
when I tumble
through the abyss.
I have created
Reason, Religion, and Reverence
out of Absurdity and Stardust.
I will always be
more desirous of desire
than secure with security,
more comforted by wonder
than wondrous of comfort,
and more of the romantic than the realist,
though neither is whole
without the foil.
Liz Carlson Dec 2018
leaving everything behind
has been torturing my mind
for what feels like forever

some days i want to stay an eternity
and never let go of these things
and other days,
i just want to fly away and get it over with.

yet here i am
standing still
as the clock keeps ticking by
in wait for that day to come.
Rei Coman Dec 2018
I hear it singing
from just beyond,
in the Unknown.
“I can make you so
happy”, it croons,
“whole like you
have never been”.
But there is
another voice
just behind me,
faint as the curve
on a drop of water,
that whispers:
“But at what cost”.
Paige Error Nov 2018
I'm Sorry.
This simple phrase
has been burnt into my head
after years of believing everything
bad that happened was my fault. Simply
because you blamed me for every little thing.
Here they never let me blame myself for the
little things. Even though I apologize for
almost everything. Slowly with time
I have started to repeat another
simple little phrase
Thank you.
Stu Nov 2018
Someday soon,
under a new sun,
We will sing a bird's song of white and gold hues.
Of beaming light.
Of warmth encompassing all that we love.
And it will be magnificent.
Carter Ginter Oct 2018
Just before college
I started dressing more masculine
Prior to that I struggled hard
With my attempts at femininity
It never felt right
I was never comfortable
And this one time
My mom walked into my room
Just as I broke down crying
Because someone thought I was hot
In a pink outfit with makeup on
They said I should wear that more often
My mom asked why I was so upset
And I couldn't explain it to her
I really didn't know
I just knew that that "compliment"
Burned into a deep portion of my soul
It hurt me so intensely
Because some part of me knew
That the person in that photo
Was not me
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