Dear God,
I get it, you're doing the best you can
I get it, you're trying so hard to keep us
all alive and okay and here.
But goddammit, give me something.
Show me that I'm valid.
Don't let those people
That call themselves Christian
Judge me for what I wear
Or who I love
Or how I identify.
You gave me too much testosterone for a reason.
You gave me an androgynous mind for a reason.
Don't you tell me it was an accident.

Dear God,
I get it, I'm your child.
But mother, oh dear mother,
Help a child out.
People scream at me when I say
I'm not your daughter
Because I am not.
Nor am I your son.
I am your child.
I am yours and all of the other gods' child.
My mind and soul and spirit
Will continue on to the next life
And this dysphoric, female body
Will get left behind.

Dear god,
Do you know what it's like
To question yourself,
And feel that your creator has made a mistake?
Or do you question,
As the creator,
That you make the mistakes?
Do you feel you made me
As a problem and a reason to fear
The spectrum of gender
Between male and female
Or the sexualities
Outside of straight and gay?
Do you feel I was a mistake?
Do you feel I was created to do all I plan?
To change the world?
Or be changed by it?
Do I conform?
Or do I let myself stand out?

Dear God,
I get it, you make us struggle
But dearest of gods up in nirvana,
Why do you leave me
Feeling alone and empty?
But then have someone
Come in and pick me up
And give my soul a mate
And let me fall in love
And find blissful peace?
I can't tell if you're a blessing
Or a monster.
But I guess that's the question.
Why did you make me?
When will I fulfill my purpose
Of changing the world
One word at a time?