A poem about gender dysphoria

“Trapped in the wrong body” That’s what they say how it feels. No, Not for me. I know this is my body. Because it is my body. I lift my hand up in the air And let the wind curl around my fingers And twigs prick at my skin. I let the rain form droplets and beads of water inherit my hair. And flutteringly open my eyes. This is my body.

However. My soul have not processed that is true.

I am not trapped. I am forced. Into a box. A circular box.

Perfect for wrapping gifts for the holidays Wrapped in pretty linen and a shiny red bow on top. A lot of people have been trying to force me into that box for a very long time.

It’s hard to force someone to be someone they are not unless they are happy to lie.

When I look at myself I do not feel ashamed. I feel untrue.

That, that person on the other side is simply a reflection of an alternative version of myself that my consciousness takes hold of.

Like I could press my hand against the glass, my palm notices familiar feel of cold hardened sand appear as my fingertips create fingerprints as I hear a shower in the background and the mist covers the room.

And for just once

That reflection at the end of what seems like the universe, is not who what others see me as, but who I am.

As I slowly come out from behind the mirror as the glass becomes liquid sand as I grab my hand in a tight grip and yank me to the other side. However. My soul is not my body.

It’s simply energy that I cannot turn on or off and is dominant compared to my bones.

Oh, how I wish I could tell my younger self that people made up those two boxes.

That strangely enough have so much in common.

That is because the reality is not just boxes but an open void filled with love,beauty,pain and stars.

Which is why society creates their own ‘reality’.

Which have caused a lot of problems for people by telling them that they are the problem because they exist.

That “we chose our soul”

That we chose to Know the world isn’t just in black and white.

That we chose for our earth to stay silent as we watch it burn.

They say the land of the free, Well, I guess no land is truly free after all.

Life is not a masquerade.

No one can put on a fancy mask And pretend to be a stranger and never showing their true face.

Life is the clouds.

Slowly drifting in the sky.

Something that you cannot touch.

Your fingers seep through it.

Pressure building up against the composition before letting all that pressure out And let rain and thunder rage and sulk amongst the earth once they had enough.

To leave room for a ray of light to beam into someone’s bedroom for a perfect sunny day.

I shouldn’t have to scream to be heard in a quiet room.

I shouldn’t worry if me is too much to ask for. I didn’t ask for anything.

I was born something And told I was born another.

I can’t control If when someone says my birth name,

And those syllables roll off their tongue Like feathers that fall and shatter on the floor left over from a dying bird,

That I can’t help but feel invisible.

Like I slowly and slowly turn transparent.

That I am no longer there and they are talking about their idea of who they think I am.

Like those syllables don’t belong to me.

Like people are just seeing my skin and bones But not

Me.

Or when I see myself as a child being stuffed inside that box again,

That I want to help them break free out of those handcrafted chains that others made,

And to get out of that small box to explore high snowy mountain tops and icy cold rivers and forests that smell of pine and plumed berries

Instead of dark misted cardboard

But just Me.

Everyone young and foolish will dare to promise forever As if it is in their reach Till death do us part

Because you think you know someone, The people you call friends, The people you like, The people you love.

And they stay by your side so long your stories weave and intertwine, Only to see a lose thread and have it all unravel, To find the real story beneath the glamour With no stone let unturned, no promise left intact

I loved you, once When your words were still true And your heart was still pure

I trusted you, once When you never broke a heart Or a solemn oath

I needed you, once When my world fell apart And you weren’t there to save me

I hoped for forever But hope isn’t enough When someone leaves you for dead

I searched far and wide But when you were found You’d become someone new

Someone who cheats Someone who lies Who breaks hearts with a smile

Now it is all over No stone left unturned No promise left intact

The lies you told No longer control My mind is free Free as can be My wings have been set free From your narcissistic greed No stone left unturned No promise left intact The truth is the wind beneath my wing

No stone left unturned. No promise left intact. Your loyalty is admirable, But I find fault in your tact.

Your strategy is forward, But offense wins the game. You dare not betray your friends, While betrayal is my first name.

Your sword is sharp, Your shield is strong. But how can good, Survive without wrong?

What can be good, If nothing is bad? Aren’t you weary from this fight? Don’t smile if you’re sad.

Take off your armor. Your weapon, throw it down Come join my mighty cause,

I’ll give you a king’s crown.

My son wearily looks up at me, with snot dripping out his nose you see.

His eyes ask, “Daddy, am I ok?” And to him, this is what I say:

When life tries to hit you, hurt you, wear you down, you can never let it see you frown.

And I finish this rhyme by making you a pact: When I say I’ll be there for you understand I will leave no stone left unturned, no promises left intact.

I miss you Did you know that? I always want to reach out But you push me away What’s up with that? And I can’t shake you You cross my mind every day Multiple times And it’s not that I’m fixated It’s not that I’m stuck It’s just that you were my favorite person You made me happy And now I’m just not Never again You didn’t want me That’s just that You left no stone unturned Yeah, no promise left intact

Try as we must Promises made which could never be fulfilled My children always ask for unlimited promises My children ask for life forever Try as we must Fight as we do Life will always conclude Time will always win Try as we must Immortality I seek I promise to be there forever A promise I know I cannot keep Because I study the endless. And yet I sit and think Try as I might I will leave, No stone left unturned, no promise left intact

You’ll need a silver knife to kill me love My whole family is full of monsters My sister who nurses the snakes inside her head, Keeps statues of the men she destroys, Hurt so young and so often that poison Tastes like benediction Till she dies, she’ll spread her gospel.

And me, the changeling, who goes anywhere, Who collects trust like currency to spend, Like two gold coins to be laid over the eyes of the blind, Who promises, promises, that he will be there Who vanishes when he is wanted Because I learned early that people always leave And I am a person, or I am trying to be.

Our father who always smiled Even when he threw his heavy hands, Even when he crept into our bedrooms. They never made a legend out of him. We tell our children the monsters only want to kill them Because we can’t tell them the truth Because a beautiful thing twisted is far worse than an ugly thing being itself.

If we had our way the world would burn And we’d watch from the front yard Of the house we ran from, No stone left unturned, No promise left unbroken.

Wherever you are I will find you

I will never stop Toi t’ornent you

You are my center You are my strength And you can’t leave without my consent

I promised you protection But protection from the outside And now you dare running from me?

I will pursue you I will find you

No stone left unturned No promise left intact