Mother,

you always say you want the best

for me,

you want me to be happy.

This time,

I did what you taught me to do

I knew what was hurting me,

and I knew how to fix it,

So I did.

I did what the best solution was

for my weighing dysphoria,

and you were furious.

Why must you yell every hour?

I feared for my life when I answered

Your call.

you yelled at me,

"WHY DID YOU DO THIS?"

"YOU WERE BEAUTIFUL!"

all I could manage to do was

sit there,

trembling and

crying.

I was horrified,

and for a minute, I honestly thought

I did something awful.

But their hug gave me safety and

comfort.

They showed me

it's better to be happy and piss someone off,

than be forever uncomfortable in your own body.

But Mother,

Why are you taking the only safety

I have?

You've taken enough.

You are less of a parent, and rather more of

My abuser.

Here I am again, running through the woods. The mud squelches around my bare feet as I run like hell in my scarlet ball gown. As I look back, I see a dark figure chasing me—a tall, lanky, shadowy figure with white eyes and long, sharp fingers. I dodge the trees as I dash past them, hoping that “thing” doesn’t catch up. I’m exhausted and can’t breathe; I need to stop. The more I run, the harder it is to breathe, but I can't stop; this “thing” still follows me. I look back to see nothing but the trees and the night above me. I deem it safe enough to stop and catch my breath. I collapse on my knees; my legs feel like nothing under my weight, and my lungs are on fire, telling me to breathe, but no matter how much air fills them, they still quiver and shake, begging for more.

“You don’t belong here,” it whispers. Suddenly, I feel a sharp burning sensation across my back. I touch the wet, burning wound on my back. Blood. Looking back again, I see pitch black where there should be trees. “GET OUT,” it grabs my ankles and pulls, scratching my legs to shreds as it drags me closer to my castle. I thrash, mud splashing into my face and smearing itself into my beautiful red dress. It traveled quicker and quicker. My violent thrashing increased as it approached the edge of the woods. “LET ME GO!” I screamed. It didn’t stop for me. “STAY OUT,” It threw me out of the forest with such force. I tumbled down the hill. I was so exhausted. I couldn’t move; I couldn’t think. Everything in my head was a swirl of thoughts. What was that? Why was it in the forest? Why did it chase me? But before I could comprehend an answer, everything turned pitch black.

I wake up panting in a cold sweat. The blankets around me are moist with sweat as I push them off of me. I stand up, shaken. “Just another nightmare,” I say, hoping to reassure myself, but no luck. As I walk to the bathroom, my body feels greatly fatigued, as though I have run a marathon.

“Ow,” I complain as I splash cold water on my face. My hands feel… chalky? Why would they feel chalky? I light a candle before looking in the mirror in an attempt to find the culprit causing me to feel so off. I stare at myself, and to my horror, I see my pale skin splattered with mud. My hands are covered in blood and dried mud. “Was it a dream..?” My back burns so badly that I feel like someone put me on a stake and attempted to burn me alive. “It wasn’t a dream… was it?” After taking a closer look, I realize my whole body is caked in dried mud and blood.

I rush back to my bed with my candle to find my sheets and pillow covered in blood. “The sheets weren’t covered in sweat… they were covered in blood.”

Here I sit

Edge of the Earth

Dry holes where life once was

Feet hanging off the edge of existence

I look at the barren land.

Which once housed greenery and growth

Gray and brown and sad

Death of our own doing

Lack of vital resources

Rough scraping movement of my parched tongue

Scaly lips beg for the slightest hydration

Our hope too far strained to be healed

The world around me crippled by desertification.

Why wait to witness the inevitable end?

Oh color! You fill my soul with happiness and delight

But why do you glow with the moon in the night?

You appear in everything I see,

I frown at you while you’re smiling at me.

Sharing your joy with everyone you touch

Must have assumed you gave me some, but not much.

Bringing me with you on adventures and crimes,

While I am here writing, hardly surviving these rhymes.

Trying to understand why everyone loves you Color,

Could never make my intelligence grow taller.

I’m sitting here writing and trying not to cry,

I keep asking myself one question: why color, why?

Happy to be me

Yet easy to forget

Fickle stereotypes

Feed you lies

“Either be this, or this”

Constantly confused

“What am I?”

Neither you nor I know

Even when gender is unsure

No one questions

Where it starts or ends

When it lands on a label

How it decides

Which it will be that hour

Why it stops its game piece

On each label

How many times around

Will it pass

Before it chooses

The hours' gender?

The flowers blossom

Is why Spring is so awesome!

A flower for every occasion

Even if you don’t have an invitation.

A rose, a tulip, or even a daisy

Occasionally these flowers seem a bit lazy.

Every flower to bloom in Spring time,

Is when these flowers are at their prime.

All of the flowers to blossom from Earth

Are bound to be considered as rebirth.

Put them in a pot on your window

Drown them in sunshine and let their skin show!

When I was young, before bed, my mother would pat me on the head, sing me a song about a rainbow clover, brew me a blessing of good luck to repeat, and read me a story about a green potato that could do a special jig.

I looked around at the dead of the night, and what I found was frightening. Everywhere there were pumpkins of all different sizes, different faces- horrifying faces, all around me, and I couldn't escape their terrifying glare. Bats hung from the trees around me, their sparkling bright eyes gleaming, making them look like miniature pumpkins in the moonlight. The trees looked ready to gobble me up like candy corn. There were gravestones placed in every place I looked. I gathered the courage to look behind me and was frightened to see a skeleton in one of the graves. The air was so cold and foggy that it was hard to see anything beyond my own two hands. The wind crept up my spine and slapped me in the face like it was trying to say to me

“leave before it is too late.”