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i strive

to reject

the masculine

in all its forms

i strive

to reflect

the feminine,

only i mourn

no one will believe me

there is no promise

of absolution

no comfort in the void

my extremities

turn to sand

i drown without touching a drop

violence

at your hands

it heals but the bleeding never stops

wounded prey

in dark seclusion

no comfort in the void

there is no promise

of absolution

no comfort in the void

no agency to grant yourself forgiveness

a forfeit of the soul for tainted flesh

a bond of blood leaves stains beneath the surface

a burden to be carried to your death

you planted the seeds of hate in me

bereft of my femininity

a chasm of animosity

revulsion at what i came to be

no one will believe me

i fear

all that i was

so masculine

but without form

i fear

all you’ve become

so cruel

and so i mourn

i’ve suffered violence

at your hands

damaged, unable to pretend

your voice still echoes

its demands

i drown in darkness without end

consumed in my confusion

no one will believe me

a wound of cruel illusion

no one will believe me