I was just twelve.
Twelve years of age when the words hit my ears like a blood curling scream.
Pinned up against a wall clutching my heart as the words pierced me like sharpened daggers.
Fear overwhelming me as I felt every emotion that was said line after line.
All because they made a poem AGAISNT me.
"She was empty and useless, like a flower no one tended to in the Garden of Eve. Her words were not words because her mouth moved without sound. She thought she was normal, binding her chest like we didn't know . Her, a sick freak in the mind wanting a flatter chest and a 'wee-wee' to grow."
I remember it, every vile word that was said.
My heart sinking deep into my chest as I couldn't bare to breathe.
I felt weak, utterly useless and defeated as they went on and on.
I turned my broken pieces into words that then stuck upon paper, like a baby clings to its mother when she holds it to her chest.
I am a boy.
I don't have hair on my chest.
I don't have a muscular toned body
And I sound different from the rest.
I have breast as big as softballs
And I bleed though I shouldn't.
I'm still a hidden 'freak' in the shadows
Because no one will truly love me
I know I wouldn't.
But I am human.
I do matter.
I'm not nothing
I'm worth more than you think.
I just wish being me wasn't called a disease.
I just wish people could see the truth that I see.
I'm a boy
But sadly I'm not free.