His eyes are burned in red
His skin cut in a variety of places
His mouth sewn shut
His mind so out of place
"Youll always be a girl. No matter"
His heart woven into a dark hole
He doesnt want to talk anymore
He doesnt want to leave his house
He doesnt want to look at himself
He wont look..
He wont speak..
He is forced to leave and stare at the people
Around him who still see him as a girl
Who stutter he and him when speaking
The battle of having to think twice
Before talking to him or about him
He use to hit them and care so much
Now...
Hes so use to being misgendered and unhappy
His dysphoria looks like a friend.
One might call best.
"Are you okay?"
One asks.
And he smiles softly and looks away
He wants to yell no.
He wants to pull his skin off
And rip his vocals out of his throat
And hope somehow he can be
Called normal.
The endless isolation of this coffin
Is so suffocating
My skin is a constant reminder
Of how much i have to hold my breathe
My bruises on my ribs are the subtle reminders
That I will never be me.
YOU ARE READING
Poems: Gade 12- Present Day
PoetryFrom another guy in the world, to you. Words that aren't spoken, but remain true. I hope you find comfort in my poetry too. A rusted connection to my reality, because honestly. I've lost it.
