The poem I am showcasing today is a poem inspired by one of her friends, who was for many years struggling with identity and who he (previously a she) was. These days, I find that many people are not too understanding, and it's a real problem. I listen to people talking about what it must be like to change your gender occasionally, and often times there's not a large amount of understanding from the people who talk about it. I believe that this is mostly caused by the famous/infamous Katie Jenner case.
While this poem is not exactly about this friend, this poem is inspired and dedicated to the friend.
"Identity Crisis"
By Karina Ross
All the messed up things that
go on in his life are in his head
He asks himself if his pain is even real
All the feelings that he couldn't help but feel
And he doesn't know how to heal
All because his pain, isn't justified by actions
But by his thoughts
All the words he trys to speak
locked inside
A mind so strong
And with so much to say
He Had opened his mouth
Wanting hope to come out.
But instead there was nothing.
All his wisdom tucked away
Though he spoke a ton
He hasn't really said a word since that day
He was trapped.
The suffering he saw and understood all too well
Built up around him
Creating his cell
A jail made to ensnare his love
All his emotions shoved aside
Because he cared too much
Those who claimed to understand his shame
Only heard his passive Cry
Then said he was to blame
Causing chains to entange themselves around his soul
Leaving a hole
He knew he couldn't fill
Flooding the floors of his cage
Are the tears he cried
When others drew away from his pain
Because it was starting to hurt them too
And they refused to lift a little weight off his shoulders
Thinking that they had to much on theirs
But their weights weren't as heavy
But that didn't mean they weren't just as hard to carry
Outside his prison was the little bits and prices of himself
that others saw
As he tried to claw his way out into the open
But only his built up rage
and fury got out.
Outbursts of wishing for
freedom
Translated to sound as if a demon had taken his soul
Leaving a hole where he had been
And one had.
All the chains built up till every part of himself that he had loved was locked up in his mind and with no key
He couldn't help but think and see that there was nothing left
And he
Was just a memory
All because they felt the need to call him
Her
I actually thought this to be quite beautiful and well-written, but the interpretation of thoughts, whether acted out, written, or spoken, is a purely subjective art.
Did you like this? Well, she's an author for hire, and you can contact her here:
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And, as Always,
Thanks for Reading!
-Justin