When I was a senior in high school

I thought I was a boy because the

Only thing I saw in my future was

A man with a smile and my broad shoulders.

I spent a summer underneath a name

That met my requirements to be a man

And yet people were still confused

Because my voice was high and I had boobs.

Freshmen year of college and I’ve learned

How to pitch my voice lower and bind

My chest tighter so that no one questions

Whether or not my claim to man is real.

Winter break tears it apart again, the

Same pain from high school burning

My chest where a bra is instead of

A homemade binder that broke.

I changed my pronouns twice and

Felt like I was wrong for being different

Until someone showed me just how beautiful

The word non-binary could be.

Non-binary, neither girl nor boy,

The best of both or none of either

Mixed together in one single person

To create the self image that they need

To see themselves with beauty and

Face the binary reality before them.

It has been seven years since I cried

Because I wasn’t enough of a man.

I’m still not enough of the man

My mental image made so real.

And I am more than okay with that.