written c. 2018 or 2019
i don't know where to begin,
when every day is suffering
and i feel like a video buffering
while the world around me's bustling,
but i can't go out and show
the colours inside me that glow
pink and white and blue
for fear that people who
couldn't pick me out of a lineup
are happily going to sign up
to the already tremendous list
of people who insist
that my identity isn't real,
that my existence isn't ideal,
that maybe i should crawl in a hole and die
instead of insisting that i'm a guy.
the reasons out there not to support
people like me will only distort
reality to an alarming degree,
where society tells a family
it's acceptable to disown their kid,
to tell their child that they forbid
that child from truly expressing themself,
to lock their feelings away on a shelf
in a box that's locked in the back of a room
lest their family be doomed
with having a transgender child.
but have you truly any concept
how detrimental it is not to accept
your child just as God had made them?
but no, of course, cause any excuse
is always good enough to use
against this person you claimed to love,
so some deity from miles above
proclaimed the trannies will burn in hell,
but if you'll listen, i will tell
that that is not a valid excuse
for humiliation or verbal abuse
because i thought God made no mistakes,
and my identity is certainly not a mistake.
if you’ve never had the feeling,
if you've not even had an inkling
that biology made a tragic mistake
and now you feel this hollow ache
in the cavity where your heart should be
because looking in the mirror makes your flesh crawl
being called "mira" makes you want to bawl
and it's even worse to be called "she"
don't get me started on "miss" or "lady"
when all you want to be is "he"—
all you need to be is "he"—
if you've never had that feeling,
then why don't you just count your blessings
because i cannot articulate
how much your words can devastate
and how much, every day, i hate
that i was born this way.
what makes it worse is i have to hide
this part of me that's trapped inside
this skin, these bones that do not coincide
with everything i know i am.
it feels like just a giant sham,
and then i'm told to keep it in
it's bad, it's wrong, it's such a sin,
but what's the point in keeping touch
with a family that doesn’t care enough
to stay by my side in this journey,
to love me unconditionally,
to really, truly believe me
when i say i'm not a girl?
i guess that what i'm trying to say
in a truly convoluted way
is that i don't have time for pain and sorrow;
my brain is always set in tomorrow
and if you don't want to deal with me,
if you refuse to accept me,
i just hope that you will see
i will still live happily
so all that you are bound to achieve
is a life without me.
and if that's what you want, so be.
but the long and short, you see,
is i am a transgender man
and i hope you agree to still love me.