I see, or so I thought I saw
Something less but something more

I saw, or so I think I saw
Something more out of something less

And I saw what I see now and I see what I saw then
Out of something less came something more

Graved Truths

I’d be lying
If I didn’t try
To tell you the truth
About wanting to lay down
Inside and stew
In my own grave

I’d be lying
If I spilt but didn’t cry
Whenever I needed to escape
This headspace cave
Built from nothing

Hospital Corners

Like a hotel, our bodies are being rented out                                                   temporarily I squander around                                                                                       for rooms that aren’t occupied                                                                                       but every spot is no longer vacant.

As I round the corners, slightly folded                                                                   into eachother like a hospital bedsheet                                                                       I realize that I don’t have Schitzophrenia                                                                 but I have conversations with people who aren’t there

Are they? Maybe they’re all the versions of myself talking to people they used to know.

Caving Ends

I’ve killed off parts of myself to keep others from caving in, ending themselves 
Now I fill those dead ends with their’s to open back up
I walked to the bottom and risen higher than I needed to, fell back and flipped it all over and watched myself sprout 

Lost Ambitions

I turn the corner and there I am even without a mirror

I look up at the stars and                     my past ambitious self creeps up

I walk to the river bank and                 the water reminds me of all the obstacles I haven’t over come yet
I talk to new people and                        all I can think of is how much I’ve lost myself to

Back Burner Mental.

I’m sorry that my mental healt is such an inconvenience. But this isn’t any different. Maybe I could learn to not react as strongly as I do at all the “wrong: times, but I need you two, more than you know.

This isn’t just going to go away, simply just by sitting down and talking with people who already made it clear that they will never support me. That’s why I hate it when people tell me that family will come around, and maybe some people’s families do come around, and maybe I could be worse off, but this is already my version of “worse”.

It’s getting to the point where I’m realizing that most of me is just confining myself to other people’s perceptions. I get it it’s not something easy, it’s not something that can happen over night. But I’m just as confused as you are if not more.

I’m the person you raised, just altered. I’m your daughter who is now your son…. atleast in my eyes. I have support, but not by many family members and it hurts when I say that I’m going to have to cut out family and all you say is “do what you need to do”…. why can’t you just come around? Why can’t you just call me male. I’ve been mostly gender fluid mostly my entire life and now that I’m trying to actually be upfront and in the open about it, I’m being shut down.

People tell me to step into your shoes and try to see what it would be like to have a child who’s transgender or who is just simply being themselves. I’d like to think that even if I hadn’t gone through what I’ve gone through, that I’d try to understand what my child goes through. I’d like to think that I’d still love them with open arms and a steady heart.

Maybe you will come around, I’m just tired of feeling like I deserve this. Like I deserve to be told that I’m someone I’m not and just the thought of being introduced to people by the pronouns I grew up with, rather than my actual pronouns and name, actually hurts me more than the reality of it.

I love you, I probably always will. But sometimes Love simply isn’t enough. I’m tired of putting my mental health at risk. For anyone but myself.

Exhalation Masses

Stinging from the slowly growing masses, he decided to keep trudging, thorough and deep strides

Knowingly stomping through the grounds of massacreic meanderings, he didn’t care that his hopes were becoming his own version of hell, created and formed, designed for the soul purpose of getting used to a taste of a place he would soon know

Desire for the rupture, storming approached lessons, he ran through every detail that troubled his empty sockets, charging as he plugged in the waves

Walking, realizing that everything he breathed in were just remnants of everyone else’s exhalations, carrying their burdens and making them his own so that his appeared disadvantaged

He wanted to be invisible only because that’s what he was used to, so he trudged into the place he knew well, the corners of every crevice of every memory and sliced them in pieces, threw them into his veins and slowly drowned them as he was drowning with the loudness of all his thoughts