Grieving the death of yesterday,
and the fearful beginning of a new today,

Sits the mourning dove,
perched upon its pine tree palace.

The call of the sorrowful dove;
a soft, songful lament against the dawn's awakening.

Beneath the blue jay's ballad,
countered by the crow's cackle.

The mourning of the fallen, unknown to the world.
The mourning of the lost and forgotten.

Not singing, not chirping;
Just grieving.

A world of fragile things,
where love and dreams and darkness all collide.
Even though this fragile world is tearing apart,
taunted by the shadows, I lie inside myself for hours.

Lost whispers
awaken within me,
like a lullaby,
burning deep inside of me:

"Closing your eyes to disappear,
so afraid to open your eyes.
Safe in the dark, how can you see?
Open your eyes to the light."

She beckons me,
The Goddess of Imaginary Light.
Arms outstretched, awaiting me,
high above the world below,
Shall I give in?

Frozen in my place,
safe inside myself,
I'm still a slave to these dreams.
Why must we fall apart to understand how to fly?
Maybe this time we can leave our broken world behind.

Look past the end, it's a dream.
All just a dream in the end.

I knew I didn't fit.
I knew from my expression,
and I knew from theirs.
I knew from the "she, her" and "him, he"
I knew from mirrors,
I knew from signs on bathrooms.

I knew when "woman" couldn't mean "man".
I knew from the stares, the questions;
I knew when they called me "boy",
but soon apologized.
I knew something was different,
I knew something was wrong,
I didn't know it was me.

I knew it would hurt.
I knew it would hurt you.
Your little girl, your one and only,
She isn't dead;
He's still here.

Being transgender is like this:
Everyday of your life, you have always wanted a dog.
For as long as you can remember--
even if you don't know to what extent--
you have wanted one.

You asked your parents, Santa, the easter bunny,
even the tooth fairy.
Then one day you get a dead cat for your birthday.
You say "This isn't a dog,"
But "You get what you get and don't get upset"
So you carry around and care for the dead carcass.

All sorts of people look at you,
unable to understand what you are doing.
So then one day you decide to try to make it look a bit nicer.
You wash it a bit, comb what little fur it has left,
cover the decrepit limbs.

But then you realize the futility in doing this all the time,
because you are still carrying around a dead animal.
So you continue to carry it around because you have to,
no matter how horrible it may be.

Although you are carrying around a dead and rotting cat,
you aren't a ******* cat owner;

You still want a ******* dog.

She made me think twice
I had written the end
And she tore the pages.
And now I must write it again,
Doubtful of how I wrote it before.

Drifting thoughts in my mind

Calloused memories, forgotten days
The dream of a new tomorrow
The mourning of a past yesterday.

The hope for a new day and the grief of passing time
The pains of the past
The toils of the future.

What have I become?

I'm coming undone

All the voices that said no
All the reason in my mind
Collapses with my will

I'm falling apart

Memories
Happy and sad
Blurred in my brain

I'm alone.

It's quiet and it's dark
All that's left
Is my silent breath

I'm already gone.

And with me
My last shred of hope
Disintegrates

I'm gone, I'm gone.

No more tears to be shed
Over a lost tomorrow
and a forgotten yesterday.