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Boy
When I stare at my face,
And look deep in the mirror,

It's never the love that creeps in,
Always the 'horror'

I see a girl standing there.
An average looking girl.

She's not to tall,
But also not short.

She has brown hair up to her shoulders,
With blue and indigo streaks in it.

She's wearing pants that are a little bit too big,
Because her disorders make her lose weight.

She's wearing a red and black 'lumberjack blouse'
It's a little too big, it's from the men's departement.

She has a pretty small mouth,
But her lips are pink, and kind of plumped

She has bushy eyebrows,
But not in an **** way?

She has beautiful grey, blue, green eyes.
It depends on the day and her mood.

She has a little bit of a crooked nose,
That a tiny bit too big for her face.

She has a chubby face, not so much
But she's a little chubby over all.

She has braces on her teeth,
But that's pretty common these days.

She has a pretty normal body,
Normal figure, a little on the "fat" side.

She has an arm full of scars,
But they have always been there, so it's fine.

And all of the above,
Every day that's what I see.
But what I see in the mirror,

She's a girl.

She   is   not   me.
Dysphoria Days.
Ray Ross Aug 28
My body and soul are not synonymous.
When I look at my body,
I still refer to it as she,
I stare into the mirror,
And she looks back at me.
You can regret her but please
Don't forget her.
We'll never be those kids again.
I can't wait to be someone else again.
I'm an anomaly, a shapeshifter.
Ray Ross Oct 2018
Boy
He stands at the precipice of their design,
Losing something in the night air.
The edge by which he stands is still and cold.

My ribcage hurts but I don’t want to admit it.
It just feels so nice.
To have a flat chest.
To be a boy.

— The End —