What am I supposed to do?

What am I supposed to say?

All I know is this demon’s getting bigger

Everyday.

How are they supposed to know?

I’ve gotten so good at lyin’,

They can’t see that inside I’m dying.

Help, I’m crying

No.

I can’t cry. I’m a role model.

What’ll they think if the role model cries, if the role model dies…

By his own hand. I’m strugglin’

My demon’s drowning me, oxygen’s bubblin’

How am I supposed to tell them?

That’s not me in the mirror, I’m a Man.

 

I have so much to say but my demon’s choking me.

Honestly.

Can’t they see?

What this crazy fucked up world’s done to me?

I can’t let it out and I can’t let it free

All I want in this world is to be me.

 

But I can’t.

Even with my chest bound, it doesn’t matter how I sound,

It’s like they got this x-ray vision and

Can see all the male parts that I am missin’

My head is screaming for relief,

But my demon, that fucking thief,

He stole my thoughts and he stole my ideas,

How am I supposed to live if I am constantly living in fear?

 

Let me start over, let me go back;

I need the body that’s in my head,

That’s in my stories,

That’s in my drawings,

That’s in my dreams,

That’s in every fucking aspect of my life except reality.

That’s me.

Not this curvy vagina-bearing thing that you see.

 

What’s so bad about this demon is he’s me.

I created him in accordance with society’s fucked up view of me.

This isn’t right, why must I make it known even when it’s shown that I AM A BOY.

 

These feminine pronouns sting like spewed venom

And yet I can’t fight ‘em.

I shut down.

I turn off.

Who knows how much longer this clock’s got.

TICK TOCK.

 

Yes, I know I have breasts and a clitoris but

Genitals do not make up who a person is.

When you look in the mirror, who do you see?

 A true reflection of what other people know you to be?

I see a stranger staring back at me, asking why it is a lie,

They’re staring me down, pain in their eyes,

What do I say to this mirror full of lies,

I cry.

 

I say I’m sorry.

That I know who they are, but they aren’t me.

Metaphorically you’re dead, I say

I can’t put it any other way,

This female side is no longer here,

And one day there won't be anymore tears

Because I will be free and

 

My mirror will match me.