wistful dreams


listlessly, i walk forward
with tired feet and a tiny voice, i say
"i am a woman"
the tremor in my voice decieves my fear

fruitlessly, i tire for change
i just want to conform
but i'm not normal, i know
you tell me everyday

i want to wake up one day
with curves and long lashes
like all those other girls have
but i wasn't born that way

and every waking moment, i
hate myself a little more
for realizing who i really am
a woman, not biologically, but in my heart

and as i fall asleep
dreaming of a world where i'm accepted
my hatred fades away
into a distant sense of yearning




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