There’s not a time nor place
That I’m a good liar.
You can see it on my face,
No matter how much I practiced prior.
The lies are hard to utter,
But there is one exception.
When I don’t hesitate or stutter
And there’s nothing odd in my inflection.
It’s so easy too,
A well-practiced lie.
Because for years it was true,
Which I will not deny.
The real answer to the question
Is an answer I don’t often give.
My mind fills with suggestions
And moments to relive.
It’s so much easier to lie
Even only just this once.
If I dare to truthfully reply,
My mom will think I’m pulling stunts.
It’s really such a silly thing.
The dreaded question is so tame.
But I hate when a voice inevitably rings
“What’s your name?”
[This was also written before I came out, when I wanted to start introducing myself as my chosen name but I didn't want to risk my family finding out -Finn]
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Poetry
PoetryPoems I've written describing my trans experience, relationships, general emotions, and a few that are more fictional story-telling.
