poems?

girl tomorrow, gone today.

tomorrow i may be your perfect princess,

but today im a weeping prince.

the days i feel masc are always hard.

looking at my arms, my legs, im scarred;

to say the least, im an unworthy bard.

mom, you say im a girl, a girl, ill always be,

'cause your days of enby are just a memory.

i cant see why you dont understand me.

you think its wrong not be your birth-given sex,

but you dont understand that this is a fucking hex.

i am not an object.

i know you say you love your perfect princess,

but i feel like a weeping prince.

"willow," you call - and though its wrong - "indie," i hear.

i wince at the name. the DEADNAME. it feels like a sear,

to my heart, that is. to both my heart and to my ears.

but you but you dont fucking get it, do you?

though, your name was once different, too.

why cant you see me in my true, authentic hue?

i asked, "what would you do if i told you i was a boy?"

you replied, "id keep calling you 'she', regardless of if it brought you joy."

so i settled for 'tomboy'. i've become able to bend and mold myself aluminium alloy.

so, if you love your pefect princess,

why wont you accept that, today, im a weeping prince?

but then i found my love, who knows how it feels.

for, he was a girl once, and hes got me head-over-heels.

he doesnt make me feel as if im talking to the court of appeals.

he didnt judge me the "last" time i relapsed.

the first time i saw him, i nearly collapsed;

his beauty and kindness were too much for me to even fathom being relaxed.

he loves me for who i am, not the mask (or femme) i put on.

even if im feeling far beyond withdrawn,

its like he knew just when in my life to spawn.

he loves me when im his perfect princess.

he loves me when im his weeping prince.

and he loves me when im just his princex.

even when hes feeling blue,

and even when hes feeling askew,

i love him too.