Every time I walk out those two front doors
I prepare by stabbing myself 8,000 thorns
Some in my heart and some in my brain
Some on my arm and some that cause pain
Every time I pass the same people by
I think to myself
It's all going fine
You'll get through the day and be tired by the end
Then go to bed and rest your pretty head
Pretty? That's not a good word
Pretty isnt masc, the last that I heard
Go to sleep and dream of butterflies and a kiss
Then wake up and be called "miss"
This feeeling won't go away unless I write
Leave the pen out to dry over night
Maybe then then thorns will not stab
Maybe then I'll go back be afab
Pretty blond hair
Long and sleek
I get slapped on the cheek
If I even speek.
Speek my real name and want respect
Shush little girl is all I get left.
YOU ARE READING
Poems
PuisiThis is not a story!! This is a collection of poems that help me express what I'm thinking. I'm a trans man (ftm) and I like to write about it on here along with my mental health stuff. So have fun *****warning****** Tiggers May include: Depression ...
