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A minute is slicing my nerves It gives me a pressure along my body's curves Muting my voice down to the silence Betraying me, my gestures are put in defiance A minute ago I was a human
You hide behind pages withered with millenia of hatred Each letter an excuse for you to say "I don't care if they hold hands, Just don't do it front of my kids."
Chants of slurs follow people down the streets through the halls in jobs in home. Places supposed to be sacrad and safe Turned against them. Nobody woke up and asked to be called 'Fag'
america the free, that's what they say i am free, that's what they say you're free they say i am free
They say “God doesn't make mistakes” as a way of telling us we're wrong for wanting – No – For needing to be ourselves. It's not a mistake that I'm transgender. How could it be a mistake
America: Land of the Free, Home of the Brave… At least, that’s the lie we tell ourselves, One so fragile a single man kneeling to the ground threatens to shatter it.
I tried to list out all the problems in society. But there are so many in this country. Racists and Rapists run rampant, Some even run for office And they get elected.
Eyes Eyes that show us the world we live in Eyes that give vivid pictures in our minds Eyes that let us see the wonder Eyes that make up our own experiences
Racism does not exist, says the well-off white man living on the hill Racism does not exist, Says the woman who had never been asked to drop her bag in the store
In America, we are free To do what we wish Thus, with joy we cry And oh how we pray That freedom has not died For if she dies we are lost
In this world that we live in, we’re all God’s children But how does it make sense that somehow I’m the exception I’m unique, I’m me, I’m one in a million
Alisha, how are you? Did you cross under the rainbow? What the Afghan storytellers tell thier children, So they can become who they want to be.. Thought about writing a song for you,
I press my forehead against your cheek,A hypochondriac child desperately pleas with fear,“Am I sick? Am I sick?”
So, I poem about me? Well, Me isn't the me you see. At least on the outside,that is. Have you ever looked into the mirror and seen something you're not?
The human world is a mess, A Disney quote one might know, So many problems we need to address, To end the pain and stop the woe. There’s isms galore constantly around us,
if so fucking tired of feeling likeim not who im supposed to befrom best friends stopping to talking to me and people invalidating my identity
Land of the free Home of the brave As long as you're white And not transgender and certainly not a queer lady.
he's such a fag that's so gay words that you hear everyday they might even be things that you say
Dysphoria Sucks These feelings can suck my non-existent dick but shit That just makes the dysphonia worse doesn’t it? My dysphoria peaks when my estrogen levels do