This body is not mine
This skin is not who I am
My voice is to high for me to understand
My mind is clearly a mess
The voices in my head
Making me dread
Making me wish I was dead
I wish I was born with the right body
With a chest of a man
With a voice as deep of the masks of the ocean
But no I was born with a pink banket and rules at hand
When can I be me
When can be myself without regards of other people
When will my body match what I see in my mind
When will you call me a he
When will you call me your son
Your brother
Your nefew
Boy Not girl
But then again here I am
To afraid to say my name
My real name
The one who is me
Not the one that was chosen before me
The one who is me.
YOU ARE READING
Petals full of thought
PoetryAll my thoughts in jumbled up words, scrambled and mixed stanzas, Slightly dusted in deep mindful thinking that keeps me up at 4 am watching the sun rise Trigger warning some have to do with Depression,Self harm, eating disorders,and the Dark truths...
