She is who she is
Until she isn’t,
Torturing herself
For something
She doesn’t have,
Until she has it,
This mad confusion
Of whom we are
And what we need,
The inside and out,
Boys who wanna be girls,
Girls wanting to be boys,
Or girls and boys
Who just want,
Dealing with
Pleasure/pain,
Desperate for
Experience
To make it all real,
Experience
We never had
But always wanted,
Even when
We did not know
We wanted it
In the first place,
Now can’t live without,
The strange calls
And texts
In the middle of night
When we are most
Vulnerable
When we ache
For whatever we can get
Putting on
And taking off,
Playing
And yet, it is
Not play at all,
We paint our faces
And pretend,
When we long
For it all to be real,
The things we say
We want to do,
Picture ourselves doing,
Doing in the dark
All too real
Even when
Unreal.
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