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When I attempt to think about my future, I know I can't. I know, I can only do what I can now to piece together my future like a puzzle. I want to get on T, I want to cut my hair shorter than my parents allow, I want more body modifications, I want to have a completely flat chest, but at the moment, I can't imagine what I'd turn into. A butterfly I'm not able to picture yet. I am at the moment, a small catapillar, not being able to pass for the gender I wish. She's. Hers'. That's not what I want directed towards me. I wants he's and they's. Male and neutral term are what I want my friends to use. Not my birth name, Kit. Kit Lucas Zachary is what I'll become when I get older and scrounge the money together to make that change possible. I must change myself and bold myself into what I want to be happy, even if that means I lose people, I can deal. If they don't agree with how I feel, they don't need to be in my life anyway. I can't say that I'm a boy yet, I can't say I'm pansexual yet. The violence that is occurring against my LGBTQ+ people locks my lips together to my parents, and possibly some of my friends, because I don't want them to be my demise. In this hick state of Texas. My chest binder must be put up due to high summer tempatures, it's too hot to have on so I can't feel at home in my own body. I hate my feminine face, and my father uses double standard, making me shave, making me feel naked and incorrect. I feel incomplete, like I haven't had my right growth spirt, my right puberty. "Oh yeah, she-" makes me want to put a bullet in my head, but it I pulled the trigger I know my family wouldn't understand why. "Hey girl!" don't look, don't turn, they aren't talking about you. But, once I'm an adult with a steady income, I hope to become the person I wish to be.
Masego Pitso Sep 2018
Your pink silky touch makes my body go through seizures.

My veins are homeless, smothered in poverty and have been craving for soul food.

Im in a cacoon. My peace sign fingers in between my flower are working overtime,pumping and extracting the pollen of satisfaction.

It drips  all over your white sheets. An eye  of feasting awaits.

The movement of our soul connection is stoccatto. A two second breathing and rest from the uphill journey must occur.

Like a paint brush,your lips paint your intense emotions on my body. An abstract piece of art is what i reflect and look like.

You broke the cacoon.

Freed the catapillar of distruction and void.
The butterfly roams around in delight and euphoria.

My flower is embroided with your aura, little stitches of love threads  hang down my thighs.
Middy Dec 2017
My eyes are closed tight
I’m fast asleep
In my cocoon
Hidden away
I’m asleep and no one can hear me
I’m asleep and no one can see me
I’m in my cocoon
No one can find me

No one will gobble me up
Chew me up and spit me out
No one will yell
And hurt my aching ears
From morning to night
Until I awake
I’m in my cocoon
Hidden away
I love being asleep
Because no one can tell at me about anything
Adelle Stone Apr 2017
Hey
How are you?
Is heaven as good as they say?
I know you left me nine years ago
But, It was my birthday
So I thought I should write
Are there plenty of fishing holes?
How's Grandma doing?
I miss you.
I think about you all the time
I lay in my bed and think of all the fun we had
I miss you so much
I miss the way you smelled like strong coffee
The light scent of Grandma's tobacco
Your tan skin speckled with spots
Your silver hair
The watch that was twice the size of my wrist
The oil spots on your clothes
The dust on your boots
The grey plaid cowboy shirt
With the pearly snaps
How tall you were
Your hands held up against mine
Calloused and huge
But warm
Your raspy but soothing voice
The way you lifted me up
The way you read silly story books to me
Made me giggle like crazy
How you encouraged me
Gave me Catapillar trucks for Christmas
How immovable, and solid
You seemed
I remember the day you cam home with a broken leg
They don't know how or why you went
They said the brain
I say it was the heart
I miss you
sew what
more
passion on me
let
it
drip
from my depths
that i say shame
on
you
shame on me
for shame
for shame

let me tie you in
an
other
knot

spitting them butterflies out
your stomach will be filled
with
cacoon
what catapillar
crawled in you
this wreckage you built
we were
an
ship
you have left me here
with this last man on the titanic feel
molly drifting on frozen floats
just
another
she leave
?















...
..
.

— The End —