And when I gaze upon it: its beautifulLovely curvesSmall breastsDelicate waistRound faceOne secret: It kills every part of my authenticity Makes me feeldistant from myselfdirty that it belongs to mewrong to want any differentTwo secrets: It defeats hope for my true identityDoesn’t matter that I haveHair under my arms, a boy’s closet, hair short and silverSince i’ll never deliver the clear and correct message“She’s butch” “Why dress like a boy?” “She…her…hers”Like I’m no one at allSo I bind down those pretty breasts, that aren’t mine to begin withEvery time wishing I never thought like thisStill dreaming what it would be to change the outer selfA dream that keeps me in my head, and on my feet