Clawing at my flesh,
Sobbing,
And tearing until the bones underneath show.
Why is this my body?
This is not right,
I request a new one.

But that's not how it works.
So I continue to claw,
Until my fingernails are stained with my own blood.
But the body that isn't right stays
Never leaving.

There's a fire in my chest
And in my hips
That grows stronger on some days, but seems not to be there on others.

Every pronoun,
Every name,
Sparks a flame of anxiety and hurt,
Afraid that it'll be wrong,
Afraid that I'll get questioned.

So I continue to rip open my flesh,
Even only metaphorically,
Wishing to be out of this goddamn body.
Wishing to simply not exist