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Nis Jun 2018
I look at myself
and once again
I have that feeling.

That stone in your heart,
that heartless stone
that is me.

Raw feelings go here
unscheduled
no words to describe them,
just feeling.

I could say that I'm down
In this English language of yours
But no, that's not it.

You may argue it's depression,
and yeah, my psychiatrist would agree,
but that's not it either.

Maybe it's dysphoria kicking in once more,
certaintly I feel its awful hand greeping me again,
but that's not it.

What may it be,
this ugly feeling I puke to the poem.
I don't know.

But I want it to stop
Nis Jul 2018
Pensaba que era alguien
y era mi reflejo.

Era yo,
era mi cuerpo,
no era yo
era mi avatar en este mundo,
un hombre joven y asustadizo,
no era yo.

Pensaba que era alguien
y era mi reflejo.

Mi reflejo,
ese mundo mudo e invertido,
como este tantas veces.
Espero que a mi reflejo le vaya mejor que a mí.
Ciertamente tiene mi cuerpo,
vaya desgracia.
Aunque tal vez en su inversión
se reniega de mi condición transgénero,
de mi desgracia con los expertos de la salud mental.
Tan invertido ese mundo de reflejo
que tal vez pueda disfrutar de sus amigos,
disfrutar de su reflejo.

Mi relación con los espejos
siempre fue de amor-odio.
Amor porque la científica en mi
sólo veía un instrumento semimágico
que replica nuestra realidad.
Odio porque yo no estoy en esa realidad.
Un energúmeno ocupa mi lugar,
un inútil al que odio con todo mi ser.
Un chico.
De pequeña jugaba a que luchaba con ese chico,
nunca pude derrotarle,
sigue ahí.
No era yo,
era mi reflejo.
Mi archienemigo.
Mi odio.

//

I thought it was someone
and it was my reflection.

It was me,
it was my body,
it wasn't me
it was my avatar in this world,
a young and shy man,
it wasn't me.

I thought it was someone
and it was my reflection.

My reflection,
that mute, inverted world,
like this one so many times.
I hope my reflection is doing better than me.
Certaintly it has my body,
what a pitty.
Although maybe in its inversion
it denies my transgender condition,
my disgrace with mental health experts.
So inverted is that world  of reflection
that it may enjoy its friends,
enjoy its reflection.

My relationship with mirrors
has always been of love-hatred.
Love because the scientist in me
only saw a semimagic instrument
that copies our reality.
Hatred becouse I am not in that reality.
A madman takes my place,
a vane man that I hate with all my being.
A boy.
When I was young I fightplayed with that boy,
I never could defeat him,
he's still there.
It wasn't me,
it was my reflection.
My nemesis.
My hatred.
Last one of three poems, from just esthetics, to suicide, and finally to gender dysphoria. Hope you like them..
Lilly White Feb 2011
I saw in a magazine
A beautiful black woman
Her hair was wild
Her face was dark
She was a true black beauty
Then I looked in the mirror
And I saw myself
I am black, but certaintly not beautiful
My hair is coarse
My eyes are dark
Black and beautiful don't mix
But on that woman,
Her beauty prooves that statement wrong.
(c) 2011 Lilly White
Sarah Tunney Oct 2014
I felt your hand brush past my face,
Tender touch, an exquisite embrace.
Special years have slowly elapsed
1 direction , 2 people, hands perfectly clasped.
Through tantrums and tears,
You've helped me conquer my fears;
A unique force, ever so true ever so robust .
Encouraging words and tantalising kisses that drifted through me like angles sending me wishes,
Helping me was never a heavy duty ..
More like a mission to accomplish, climbing a hill or a mountain .. The days that surpasses you certaintly were counting
To conquer that fear that never should of been there
So we  could return to that memorable exquisite embrace and not give a care
I have been writing poems ( trying to) for a few years here is a little sample . They are rough drafts as I have never received outside help and  I'm certaintly not a notable writer!please let me know what you think and I will start adding more
Paul Donnell Jan 2018
Mandala ******
Bird brain herder
Pack of wild wolves
Owls without.
Grit teeth say please.
Sea of folks different strokes
Non of genious
And certaintly not I
Mind is feeling weak
Strap boots to feet
Got em brand new,
Brunswick stew
Over Converse☆ conversation.
Grossly mass produced.
I hate you.
Thats my good pen.
Bought not found.
I like the way it writes
Hate the way I do.
**** me, love you.
Grossly
Marie-Lyne Jan 2019
Whatever
Kept
Souls
Attached
To each
Other
It
Certaintly
Wasn’t
Distance

— The End —