Not A Phase
As if you are the one
Who feels the ache in my chest;
As if it’s you who wants to tear
And pull
And scratch the skin
Around my bones,
Peeling layer
On layer
On layer
Of misplaced flesh and tissue.
I tell you “This is not a phase.”
When I hear “Girl” called,
It is not me,
For I am only her to you,
To them,
To everybody else.
You see feminine features
Paired with my genderless mind
And think “What a waste”,
But… It’s only a waste
If I don’t take what I have
And build myself from the pieces.
3 thoughts on "Not A Phase"
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Sad introspective poem.
Thank you for allowing us to read your truth all month.
You, my dear, could never be a waste. <3 You don't have to pull and scratch to peel the layers, but I know you will always keep on digging into the soul of who you are and building yourself from the pieces.