Trying to explain my gender to my family and other things that almost killed me.

Slam 'oems

Trying to explain my gender to my family was like trying to tell the Catholic church the Earth isn't the center of the universe back in the 1600's 

It had been something they've known years they just simply weren't gonna change, 

Kinda like their political view and their methods of parenting. 

Like a rosary was wrapped around my neck and hanging me from the cieling fan 


to them it never will never be a pink dress hanging in the closet with 

chains in a pearl necklace of ideals I couldn't commit to. 


Weight and the color of shame. 

Cement blocks in the shape of high heeled shoes.

A mother who made too many tomboy jokes

Because ya' know I'm just like my dad.


I can't breath.

Oh Lord, I can't breath

as I bind with the same bandages that should have kept my wrist clean. 

Why weren't my wrists clean? 

Because arrogant minds tried to keep me alive with the foolish notion,

that God, 

made me female therefore I must be.

Well let's see, 


Says that woman can't speak in church,  ( Corinthians chapter 14 verse 36)

Also you can't get tacky round haircuts and trim your facial hair as is read in Leviticus chapter 19 verse 27 

So please,

as you go through your day wearing your gold and mixed thread fabric, 

and only focus on not being gay and stuff. 

Not like sutff is just stuff, ya know?

not because it's everything you wanna hear 

Because You're so stubborn and close minded.

I dont know who made this barigan to sell me off or what you got for it but I got the worst part of the deal

by thinking you meant it when said you'd accpet me 

boy or girl you'll love me right? But that never could be

as you said you understood me but

you call me her even though that girl died a long time ago 

and it makes me feel worse  to know

that you see me as this falwed little girl 

even thought my face has turned blue from the number of times I've tried to scream that,

I'm your son. 


I'm sorry but its about time I start getting these /things/ off my chest.

Because these hips DO lie. 

and though my features scream venomous echos of a voice telling me I'll never change,

I'll live on. 





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