Identity

(Sorry for the long absence. I was finding myself and dealing with things. This poem tells a story. Thanks, Al. :))

Born into pink

With abundant long curls

Dolls and tea parties

Dresses and make-up

Do as mom says

Never get dirty

Tilt your chin up

And smile

Be pretty

Or no boys will want you

This isn’t my body

A forever cage

My identity begging to be let free

My insides twisting and contorting

Dark colors and frown lines

An XXL hoodie draped over my dysphoric figure

Tears more often than smiles

Dolls with shattered porcelain

Tea stained dresses scatter the floor

Beside long locks of curls

Isn’t that a cruel punishment?

Being born into the wrong body

Being forced into stereotypes of the wrong gender

“You’re broken!” Mom screams.

“You can be fixed.” He preaches.

Banished sins

And outcast children

Love me until you forget me

My sins cast hate on you

Cast shadow on my soul

Prismatic light on pale concrete

A door cracked open

No long curls

No hoodie

Just me

In my own body

One that I have found

And one that I am free in

I am me

And I am not sorry

This is my identity