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 Apr 2016 Thomas EG
Cody Haag
The tears streamed from your eyes
Like salty rivers on a quest;
They poured to the ground,
As your secret you confessed.

Your mother held her breath,
Stared at you with kindling, rampant rage;
"You are not a ******* boy,
This is just a phase."

She hides you from me,
Separating us from the intimacy that held us together;
Prevents us from experiencing our love in person,
It is so tender.

The days are passing,
You are hurting inside;
She insults you, blames you,
For being a girl who lies.

The knife inches toward you throat,
Your fingers aching to seal your fate;
But baby, look toward me,
It is never too late.

Hold onto this passion as if it
Is the very water to quench your thirst;
The very food to satiate your appetite,
Fulfill your mirth.

Boy of mine,
Your heart is pure.
Eventually you can slam
In her face the door.

Just hold on,
Take deep breaths;
Self-harm isn't a solution,
Neither is death.
 Apr 2016 Thomas EG
Athena
Build.
I was told that woman are made to build.
But wait...
What if I told you that my gender identity was as messy as raindrops as they hit the ground?
What if the only thing I can build are stanzas in some wanna be poem.

Yes, I do have a ****** but I bind my ******* so tightly I cannot tell the difference between breathing,
And a panic attack.

I am not a woman.
I am not the type.
I am your type.

When I am asked what I would like to be when I grow up,
Isn't it sad that that the first thought that occupies my mind is,
"I want to be a man.."

My mother pushed out her precious baby girl and keep in mind I had a brother.
Have a brother.
*** and gender are two completely different things, darling.

When someone asks what I want to be when I get older,
I will say a carpenter.
Because at least then I can build myself to be a man.
From the ground up.

But for now I will have to settle for pecks made out of metaphors,
And the thought of a ***** as long as my lyrics.
Would you still love me if I was a man?
If not,
Then have fun choking on my poetry.
 Apr 2016 Thomas EG
Storm Raven
It is all in my mind.
I know you don't feel the same things as I.
But does that make it any less real?
Does it make me insane?
Oh and by the way, you my call me Nathan today.
That you don't understand me or my thoughts, the way my mind works.
Is that reason enough to call me insane?
Because yesterday I was a girl and today a boy?
Is not fitting in the binary system reason enough to tell me that I am crazy, wierd, insane?
That you don't understand, don't feel the same should not mean that you can judge me. Can't it?
Call me Nathan today, I am gender fluid and indentify as a boy today.
Thanks
 Apr 2016 Thomas EG
Ash Saveman
Dear mother,
You say you feel hurt by what I have done.
You say that my issues are affecting you.
But dear mother,
Do you not know where these issues come from?
I think you do, but your ego is too high for you to climb off it.
Dear mother
You say you love me,
But then you never show me.
I get guilt trips and tounge lashings.
You control every aspect of who I am.
You say I'm not valid.
You reject my love,
No matter how I explain it.
The things you make me do to make myself fit into your smal margine of "exceptable" make me sick to the stomach.
Dear mother,
Don't you know that when you get in my face about how I'm a girl and that's just the way it is and it won't ever change, just because I said I'm not a girly girl
Don't you know how much that ******* hurts?
You tear apart every aspect of myself and then wonder why I'm not perfectly put together.
Dear mother
When you get mad at me for being me. You're not keeping a daughter, you lost her long ago but you were too busy with yourself to notice.
But now you're not gaining a new child in her place.
You made sure if that.
Dear mother
Why do I try and do things my way?
I don't know, maybe because you abondond us and I had to fill your shoes.
I grew up by the age of 12.
I have had enough time to learn how things work for me, yet you insist on your way only.
And I'm a failure if I do it any way but yours.
Dear mother
You say you know everything about me.
But do you know about the nights spent crying,
The lunches spent hiding,
Or my head throbbing?
Do you know how dysphoria racks through my entire being, killing me a bit more everyday.
How about the things I write, or the thoughts in my mind slyly trying to turn me to their side.
Dear mother
Do you know that wasn't my only try?
That was only the one that would have worked.
I tried to reach out but you only swept me under the rug and then stomped on it.
Dear mother
I am aware of my chance at a new start in Sweden,
But dear mother do you realize you are the one stopping me from that.
 Mar 2016 Thomas EG
aar505n
What control do I hold over the near light?
With a turn of a dial I can lower its brightness.
Dimming until closed dark covers this living room.
Although not much living is done in this room.
Not much of anything is done in the dark.
But the Singing.
Yes, the singing of an old song forgot.
When lost upon dark waters
This song becomes an anchor.
The last tangible connection from here to the near light.
I realise now I am not alone.
There is an Other here that does the singing.
An old friend.
The haunting melody pulls me deeper into the sea of black.
Back against the wall, back again the listener.
I thought I was better.
I thought I was in control
But control is a cruel illusion.
A foolish desire that can not be meet despite best efforts.
For it is easy to blow out the candle than it is to reignite the flame in darkness.
I have blown out the candle in a perverse attempt to show the control I never possessed.
So I relinquished the idea of control
Give myself to the darkness and her melody. 
My last thoughts centred on the near light before
- finally -
the closed dark put my light out.
Slowly, my consciousness disparates
And I am lost into the ether.
Have you ever sensed an Other? Not another but an Other - hiding in the dark - waiting?
It appears Mel never left, keeping her dark eyes on me.
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