While the world splits me
And everything
In twos,
The only option that fits me
I'm not allowed to choose.

When I tuck up my hair
It's not to impress you.
So don't tell me what I should wear.
I don't try to dress you.

Pregnant belly,
Beer baby,
Binders, and bras...
I try hard to embrace
All of my flaws.

Long hair or short?
Pretty or handsome?
Same or opposite sex?

Boy or girl?
Male or female?
XY or XX?

There's a certain ebb and flow
Where dysphoria comes and goes.
Ignore it or listen, that's my choice.
I choose to give my inner self a voice.

So when I try to stand up
And I'm told "Calm down, be seated."
I don't care what you think.
I do care how I'm treated.