you ask me, over and over you ask me. but why, really why, does it matter? even if I cover my ears and yell, and shout and scream,you raise your hands and tell me i'm being dramatic. I act out and ignore what you try to pry from my hands,something that will end up broken even if you try to be indifferent. I have no one to blame, not even myself,because then who do I have to protect me? pathetic, a pathetic story about a boy who feels sorry for himself. do I offend you with my mere existence whilst I try and keep a face? why? what do you gain, from the knowledge of what is in my pants,I’ll tell you what, it's two pennies! some lint and a piece of belt. you cross your arms and shout silly words that means nothing to me,you rely on tales and holy books until it comes to proving I’m a “she.” I cross my arms and shake my head, standing my ground and being bold,“you're just like them,” you sneer, your teeth being grey and your hair falling mold. why do you care? what are you protecting, who are you saving,where is this needed? at the end of the day when my eyes are heavy and my hands are light,I feel exhausted. as your words sit in my head and water my eyes,I wonder, why does it matter?