Inspirational Words

[Guest Kelly]

Hi people i wanted to share these words that somehow made me feel better. i found them on deviant art i will give credit to each author with a link to the original site

Blood Stained Tears

by: http://hattieness.deviantart.com/

Although a lonely girl has captured herself

she faces her fear everyday

And she has no one to hear her cries for help

plain as the pain upon his face

And as she’s running, killing herself

the screams of a woman in his ears

Poison dipped, she pierces herself

there is nothing left but blood stained tears

Rising up, losing ground

no ones here to help you now

Crashing through, he shows himself

There is bleeding and feeding--

retreating from the shelves

And as he conquers over she asks herself

‘What is left of me? I cannot tell.’

She is pleading and grieving; there is no doubt

the gleam of her candle has run out

Eradicating her living as himself--

his strength is building off their fear

Ravenous for life, there’s no hope now

wiping away their blood stained tears

Little Blue Girl, Little Pink Boy

by: http://gayemodepressed.deviantart.com/

Rising up, losing ground

no one’s here to help you now

Crashing through, he shows himself

There is bleeding and feeding--

retreating from the shelves

Stretching arms, muffled sounds

years of hiding, now he’s out

Darkness coming with his leer

There is bleeding, succeeding--

retreating from blood stained tears.

Little blue girl,

Little pink boy,

Little blue girl,

Little pink boy.

On your first day of school,

The children mocked you,

Girls go to girls room,

Boys to boys room.

Little pink boy,

Fell down on the floor,

Daddy told him boys are not supposed to cry,

Little blue girl loved to play with a ball,

Mummy told her she's to old now.

Little blue girl,

Little pink boy,

Little blue girl,

Little pink boy,

Hold on, hold on,

For what?

They don't know.

Little blue girl,

When you got to high school,

They called you names,

in the changing rooms,

Little pink boy,

they nearly killed you,

As the blood runs on the ground,

Its on their hands,

No one knows why.

Society dictates,

Girls wear pink and boys wear blue,

She kicked and screamed,

He bore it silently,

Their fates in your hands,

Boys room, girls room,

No one asks why,

Boys line, girls line,

What if you just said no,

Who knows why?

Who knows why?

Little blue girl,

Little pink boy,

Little blue girl,

Little pink boy.

Untitled

by: http://hark.deviantart.com/

the biggest part of my everyday life as a pre-op and pre-hormone transgender identified person is the everyday struggle to simply live my life. not only to live my life but to be seen as the person i am inside which my outside does not reflect. everyday i have to wake up and look at myself in the mirror, and see that mirror reflect many things i am not. sure i've got purple and pink hair, percings, that is obvious. but what is not obvious is that i am a boy. so, keeping that in mind, try to keep thinking boy when you have breasts in front of you. when you've got to keep shaking thoughts of self doubt and the countless ma'ams, misses, she and hers out of your head.

i know what i am. i dont need the mirror to prove it, but society does. because everyone that thinks that im just another a small levee, just bought a chunk of the binary. and everyone that calls me sir until i open my mouth and my voice doesnt match the sex they thought i was, takes away a piece of my self worth.

imagine the human species...think of the label or identity that least describes you and imagine having that label forceibly stuck on your forehead. my forced label is on my mouth, my chest and between my legs. you now have an idea what it feels like for me to be called a girl.

im a boy, i walk it, talk it, breathe it, teach it, feel it and love it. and all i want is for you to accept it. dont overthink it just digest it.

The Phoenix

by: http://nessarosa.deviantart.com/

He is waiting. Sitting on the eyesore hospital chair with the burgundy background and gray rectangles on the fabric that clings to the dull, scratched up chrome frame, Alexander is waiting to die. His auburn hair caresses his back as it cascades down his shoulders, flipping up almost effortlessly at the ends, the way every girl wishes hers would. As he pushes it out of the way of his dazzling emerald eyes, it lightly touches his brown, yellow, and blue plaid flannel shirt, which carries his distinctive smell: honey and hay in a sultry blend. He stretches out his long legs, his kneecaps disappearing like whales under the sea of his denim jeans.

He nervously plays with the silver ring with the amethyst stone. It has a rose engraved on one side and his name etched on the other: Alexander Trent. How he loathes that name. It is a life sentence he has been serving since the day he was born. It is the reason Alexander is sitting in that hospital chair waiting for his life to be over. It and his horrid body are the fuel that feeds the fire of misery that has burned unrelentingly since he emerged into the world.

His body fits him like a glove fits a foot: all wrong. His shoulders are too broad; they make him feel like a skyscraper in the middle of rural Kentucky. His voice is too deep; it sounds like the melancholic drone of an oboe wailing in a dark, dreary key. His feet are too big, his face too masculine, and the list goes on and on. How he hates his closet full of pants, button-down shirts, and blazers. How he wishes to choose for himself what he wears, to be free of the chains of society.

Footsteps echo from within the polyurethane halls. They cause Alexander’s pale skin to have goose bumps and his thin hair to stand on end. He unclasps his hands and sits up straight, his knees appearing again like erupting volcanoes. This could be it. This could be the moment he has waited for his entire life. Red and bright, his tennis shoes stand at attention as if to welcome the nurse that comes through the heavy white doors to bring sweet relief. She is a small, thin lady in her early fifties with short golden hair and blue eyes. Her purple socks contrast with the rest of her blindingly white uniform. Alexander’s cerulean eyes light up as he sees her. She is his ticket out.

Alexander is a phoenix. Like a phoenix, he will burn. Like a phoenix, he will rise from the ashes stronger and better than ever before. As his name is called, Alexander stands up, but not before hesitating first. Shaking off all doubt, he looks determinedly ahead and walks through the doors; why should he wait now? He has waited long enough. Every step brings him closer to freedom, every step works to undo a lifetime of shame and torture. Finally, it is over. Finally, Alexander will die. Finally, Natasha will be born. Finally, his body and his mind will become one. In all his dreams, he has seen her. How is she? She is beautiful.

Open Your Eyes

by: http://kayamakiyo.deviantart.com/

I am the girl who never belongs,

I am the one crying for your entertainment,

I am the person who is hurt by your words,

I am the woman who can't get the job I desire,

I am the man no longer allowed in church,

I am the daughter shunned by her own flesh and blood,

I am the wife who had to move to get married,

I am the boy you can't invite to your sleepover,

I am the son afraid to get near others,

I am the husband not allowed to see my son because I am an unfit guardian,

I am the dying, soon to be dead because they won't treat me,

I am the homeless, rejected by my family and wanted nowhere,

I am the young adult who knows I will never get exactly what I want out of life because society hates me,

I am the struggling, who sits awake at night, trying to decide who to trust, how to live my life normally, and how to carry on without letting myself be pulled down by fools who refuse to open their eyes,

We are the victims of close-minded people, left with nothing but fear and our love, love we can not express freely for fear of being scorned.

[Guest shimmeringkristal]

These works are wonderfull. Thank you for sharing what you have found. I wish you nothing but peace and joy.

[Guest KellyGirl]

These were all very nice reads. some sad....most sad indeed but important all the same.

[Guest Alicia]

I have read two of those before.