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Untitled (tw: mental illness and transphobia)

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If you can change the color of your room

I can change the color of my hair to a brilliant 



What's wrong with claiming this body as my own?

what wrong with making this body my home?


The monsters used to be in my closet

And under the bed

but now I'm older and they're in my head

and I'm cranking out push ups in my boxers every night

so maybe I can get a few hours rest

and my chest won't feel so tight


author's note:

I started the first two stanzas a few weeks ago and realized that they would go really well with the poem I was keeping in my wallet.

  • Love! 2

Not quite sure where I'm going, but I'm going somewhere, that's for sure.

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I really like the combination of these two poems. That said, it still feels a little unfinished and like it could go further. I'd love to read an updated/expanded version when/if you have one. :) 



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