Who is this Girl I See?


When one is born,

the doctor says,

"It's a boy!" or

"It's a girl!"

But what they told my mother is false.

It's a girl?

More like it's a boy.


In the mirror I see her.

Hazel eyes, soft, long hair, warm features.

Where is he?

The man I'm supposed to be?

They call my name, but inside I know

that it's not me.


They see me as her.

I see me as him.

But every day,

every single day,

I have to pretend to be her.

This girl I see.

This girl who just isn't me.


The real me is stuck backstage,

letting the girl outshine them all.

Her poor understudy, never feeling the thrill of the audience.

He's hiding.

No one knows who he is.

Who is he?


She isn't real, as I say,

but they say he isn't.

The real me.

Trapped forever behind.

In fear of what people could do.

I'll stay this mysterious girl.

Until the boy in me gains enough courage and outshines her.






Thank you, the quote “her poor understudy, never feeling the thrill of the audience” really spoke to me and I hope you continue voicing your words. Someone like me knows how to hide but we are also listening to poems like yours. 


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