Mon, 08/03/2015 - 17:58 -- Rhyker

A baby, not even a moment old
Its story is unwritten, clean, untold
Grows into a child, encouraged to fulfill his dreams
Just be sure to fit within society’s scheme
Be who you want—No, not like that.
Dress how you want—No, not like that
Love whomever you want—Well…except for him
Every step is like walking out onto rotting limbs
Waiting to misstep and crash to the ground
Waiting to plummet into the water and drown
Waiting to cross a line you didn’t know existed
Waiting to break a rule you didn’t know was listed

I guess that means I’ve fallen into the water
Tried to be a son when I was expected to be a daughter
Disgusted those that loved me by being myself
A cracked, porcelain doll, too broken to display on the shelf

Why does my short hair offend you?
God! How I wish I knew
How I wish I could understand
Why my identity gets me spiritually damned

Oh! Did I forget to mention?
Apparently, I’m doing this all for attention.

Tranny. He-she. It.
It’s hard to be happy from the bottom of a pit
Hard to see the light when ridicule covers the sun
Hard to keep going when you just want it to be done
How do I make this end?
How do I stop losing my friends?

I know! I’ll pretend to be like everyone else
I’ll wear a mask and I’ll hide myself
I’ll follow the rules and conform
Maybe then I can escape everyone’s scorn

I’ll sit up straight and tall
I’ll stay quiet and keep my voice small
I’ll walk with beauty and with grace
Wear the dresses adorn with lace
I’ll cross my legs neatly when I sit in a chair
I’ll plaster on make-up and grow out my hair
I’ll do this and I’ll be that
And when others knock me down, I won’t fight back

I’ll let society’s expectations paint me with its brush
Even if it means my soul is crushed
Even if it means my insides go numb
Even if it means my heartstrings cease to strum

After all, I just want love—just want a smile
Just want to be embraced every once in a while
So I’ll show society what it wants
So I won’t have to handle the pain or handle the taunts

I’ll be a good girl instead of a sinful boy
Fabricate a smile and fabricate some joy
But at least you’ll be satisfied
At least you won’t treat me as if I had died
This way is better. This way works.
Except it doesn’t. This way hurts.

I’ve lost myself—my identity
I’m only an extension of what this mask says I can be
That’s no way to live. That’s a way to die.
And I’m beginning to realize I value my life.

You want me to believe if I remove the mask, I’ll be back to where I started.
Sad. Alone. Broken-hearted.
You want me to believe that I will be weak and somber.
But while you focused on this mask, the person behind it has grown stronger.

Strong enough to stand alone.
Strong enough to mend my “disgraceful” bones.
Strong enough to not care what you think.
Strong enough to swim in your hate and not sink.

No longer can you manipulate me
From your deceptive snare I am finally free
No longer can you rip me apart piece by piece
I’ve broken the chain to your oppressive leash

No longer am I afraid.
I won’t be attending your masquerade.

This poem is about: 
My family
My community


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