When I was a child,
I was taught poetry wasn't mild,
It was deep as the sea,
And it seemed truly unachievable for me.
I was taught poetry had to rhyme,
Every single line, every single time.
So poetry seemed out of my reach,
Like chasing a seagull down a beach,
Jumping ever so slightly away,
Or soaring into the sunny day.

So I never thrived for what I thought would,
No, Could
Never be.

I guess now I'm fixing the mistakes of past me.

Stop smiling
Stop being so perfect
Stop laughing
Stop being so pretty
Stop loving me
Stop pretending
Stop making me love you
Stop ******* me off
Stop making me laugh
I'm trying so hard to forget about you
But you keep coming back

No longer sitting to rot
Like bare bark against winter’s cold
Falling and crashing
After a storm

The crack of lighting with a crash of thunder
Left me with nothing, nowhere, no one
Noticeably nervous and running
From a reality I did not want

I hid.
Trying to quietly comfort myself

My family, the sheet
Blinding me from
Feelings I could not hide

In our final days
When I felt us splitting like
The tears and tracks left
Across my thighs
With hatred
And fear

I looked back at the face in the mirror
Abandoned and angered
With anatomy I could not change
Long locks, curves, and society
Stared back in that mirror

Screaming that I would never be he

Skin slashed
And eyes wide
At a body I had broken
Because it was not mine
I would have to overthrow
All that I had been brought up to be

Rebel to be the he that was not she