In this nearly empty trash can
I can see the hard work of a former student who wanted her club to feel loved
Thrown away and ripped apart just like our confidence.
In this nearly empty trash can
I can see the scars on a kid’s wrist
Torn open and ripped apart until all of their pride bleeds out of their skin
In this nearly empty trash can
I can see the suicides of my brothers, sisters, and siblings that don’t identify as either
Their memories tossed out and joked over as if their breath never breathed life into their former friends
In this nearly empty trash can
I can see another GSA meeting poster, ripped off the wall and tossed away
Because even our papers don’t get respect in these hallways

Have you seen him?
The boy
tears running down his face like a shower head
Have you seen him?
the boy
rocking back and forwards like a metronome
Have you seen him?
wringing his neck
dangling from the tree in his closet
Have you seen it?
that tree
the tree that has hung infinite bodies
soiled in rules and norms
seeds of hate and malice
planted by those who hate us
Have you seen it?
the blood of our sisters and brothers
our black brothers and sisters
our native brothers and sisters
our latinx
our brown
our gay
our lesbian
our bi
our trans brothers and sisters
Don't you see it?
We exist on this same tree
divided

Land of the Free
Yet ranks 20th in the world
Land of the Free
Unless you aren't
White, rich, and male
Unless you aren't
Christian or Atheist.
Slam the borders!
Americans insist
Keep them out!
Let no one in!
Land of the Free
We sing
And chant
Land of the Free
Proud are we
Land of the Free
But not.

I was taught to love you from birth
You raised me and taught me, watched me grow
As I'm older, you've changed
Rearranged the priorities I thought you had
I've had a hunger for knowledge for years
I thought you did too

Yet you yell about 'them'
'They're ruining america'
'I don't want them near me'
How did you raise me, how did I not know all this time?

How did you hold me in as an infant, with your arms balled up in fists?
How did you kiss me with poison on your lips?

I am from you, you are in me
Take my blood and let it reach your veins
I am immune to whatever plagues these childhood heroes
Maybe they got lost along the way
I've tried to help, but the poison takes over
Clouds their thoughts, they yell

I've looked up to them for twenty years
twenty ways they've wronged me
twenty ways they've hurt me
and twenty years still, I will love them
Because I will not kiss my children with poisoned lips
The poison stops with me

Fifty innocent deaths
Are fifty deaths too many
They prove that the world still

Is full of hatred
I have a right to hate it
Proof: This blood spill

And now there is a lack of blood
Yet we are not allowed donate ?
O positive and O negative, oh

Mainly, I am positive that
This needs to change
**I am so sorry, Orlando

What right have you
To tell someone they are not
Who they know they are.
You.
A person who seems so sure of themselves,
So comfortable.
Tells him,
Someone who questioned himself his whole life,
That he is not who he knows he is?

‘it’ he said
to my chagrin
a lying snake
he was akin

‘it’ she said
he called me so
i had been led
i fill with woe

‘it’ i heard
i’ll show him how
he is absurd
he’ll rue it now

‘he’ not ‘it’
boy has no class
he’s such a twit
again? i’ll kick your-

Memories,
memories of the boxes of masculinity I crammed myself into,
for you,
they are memories,
memories which occupy not only my closet,
but also the lining of my heart,
if you had the faintest idea you’d understand,
those memories burn like embers,
she still doesn’t understand,
memory boxes which hold photos of me,
but are not me,
photos of a girl before testosterone occupied and took control of her body,
a girl before male hormones swam deep into her genetic code,
stripping away what was, a girl,
she still doesn’t understand,
those memories like knives,
cut deep into my skin.  
I can now say blood is a lot thicker than water,
but
that does not mean the scars on my body tell the happy tale of a family unit, they do not recite togetherness
they do not dance to the rhythm of unity
Instead
Instead these scars loosely translate to ‘please mom, help’,
she still doesn’t understand
I cut my chest open for you and bare myself to you
like an open cavity in hope that you’ll understand
that body was a home but I was merely a guest
don’t you get it?