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The Wrong Body


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there’s a boy around the corner

trying to grow up into a man

but he’s awkward in step and

alone in a crowd and he

can’t quite fly with the flock

can’t quite grow his wings they say

these words like bullets to the

head he rots inside, he feels

his heart tremble to the bone.

he can’t breathe too well he’s

short of breath and short

of height, five foot

three and feeling so down

so ashamed. the boys laugh,

“a small levee!” and “freak!” and push

him down and push him

away. he just tries to fit

in. he can’t seem to fit in.

the girls point and giggle,

“lesbian!” and “pervert!”

and he can’t seem to fit in.

his friends abandoned him

his family doesn’t love him

and he feels so empty

and worthless inside. he

tears himself apart and falls

victim to self loathing.

and he looks himself in the mirror,

looks himself dead in the eye,

he stares hard and hateful

and then he begins to cry.

he weakens and weeps and he says,

“what kind of man am i?”

there’s a girl down the street

trying to grow up into a woman

but she’s clumsy in high heels

and mocked as she walks and she

can’t quite soar with the eagles

can’t quite grow her wings they say

these words like knives stabbed to the

heart she dies inside, she feels

her head ache to the core.

she can’t see too well she’s

short of sanity and tall

of height, six foot

three and feeling so down

so ashamed. the boys laugh,

“sweetheart!” and “freak!” and beat

her to the ground and beat her

into the mud, cold and lost and alone

and she can’t seem to fit in.

the girls point and giggle,

“homo!” and “pervert!” she just

tries to fit in. she can’t seem to

fit in. her friends abandoned her

her family doesn’t love her

and she feels so empty

and worthless inside. she

rips herself to shreds and falls

victim to self loathing.

and she looks herself in the mirror,

looks herself dead in the eye,

she stares hard and hateful

and then she begins to cry.

she weakens and weeps and she says,

“what kind of woman am i?”

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