Why Should I Think?

Tue, 01/28/2020 - 16:44 -- Trixi

As I sit and write, try to put down in words.I look outside at the state of the world.I have nothing to say, nothing positive to comment.As were choked and drowned by man-made torment.Running out of ideas so we break and tear, all of our insecurities till there’s nothing there.Just because I’m ripped and bruised, torn apart and abused, it means I’m stuck with a voice that I’m never allowed to use.As I’m pushed and shoved by gender conformists, required to enter this normal life contest.Where we’re forced to choose between depression and abuse, and now I have to think of some stupid excuse:As to why I’m not like you? Why I’m un-ordinary?Why I have to hide who I am and pretend it’s voluntary?I don’t get to choose, I don’t have a say and even if I did you’d make me hide it away.I’m dragged through labels and I can hardly breathe.I’m trapped in this body with no way to leave. I can’t escape and I can’t break free.I’ll hide it away so no one can see.I’ll bury it down deep in my heart, until it wrenches my soul and rips me apart.But I’m fine. I promise. I have nothing to hide.And I’ll always pretend that’s the honest reply.But the truth is I don’t feel like ‘girl’.I don’t feel like I belong in this world.This so called society where everyone I equal, no labels, just people in a place with no evil.  But that’s a lie.Because the streets are filled with crime and misogyny, people are imprisoned for their own dumb hypocrisy. I feel like what I say doesn't matter my voice is blurred.Your reading every line, every sentence, every letter, every word.But you don't see that I’m busy. Living up to this gender stereotype.This thing we’ve invented, this corrupting parasite.That digs and burrows into our mind.Enforced and imprinted, repeated and defined.Until it sticks.And we change everything about ourselves to fit this deception.Not be who we are just this media invention. This hoax we’ve created because of our thirst for cash.This greed we’ve infested till our emotions all crash.To see people pushed into the worst mental state.All because we think it’s okay to dictate.How we should act and what we should like?These thing’s we shouldn’t change because we think that their right.But their not.I don’t live up to these expectations, and if I’m different you’re just going to have to be able to accept that.But thinking about it now it just seems absurd.To think that I could be anything more than this image that you've heard.Because it’s useless.No one is going to understand this today.So I’m going to put down my pen and throw my thoughts away.

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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