Find Fight
(like a solider coming home)
I remember 6th grade me, vividly these days, too. Part of me wishes to address that version of myself as, 'her’ — part of me still finds it difficult introducing myself, ten years later…as ‘her’ — all the same. You know, It's not something you ever prepare for. Growing up, I saw bountiful 'coming-outs', and still...what a beautiful sight it has always been. I go so much in a back and forth w/ mine. There was always something brewing, and because of that. I've been putting a needle into my leg — every 7-10 days for...closer to two full years now. I remember 23 year old me, I remember having resentment thrown my way, Because for me, even with the nature of incarnated death, staring — longing me down. I can still, crack a smile. A joke too, if time permits. For me, transition is an act of survival. I hear so often, you only have one shot. So, I lined my trigger, You pull it. But still, it was an act of survival. These days, it's coming out of that fact — survival. That will be the lifelong recovery from. It's impossible to see it momentarily — in it, as it...through it. But the longer you stop to stare, it crystalizes in some ways. I do the same. You don't realize what you lost until you can look back, and so I do, and it turns out... I lost. — not a thing. For my ego is still held up, words still flow out from my cavities, there's a flaw wherever you want to look at me, deep enough. For I wear it to my sleeves, the ones that will have more tattoos sooner than later. The ones that will never be long enough to hide a burden. The ones that look still, just like me. I always wanted change, but it never gives it forth. You take it, Rip it from the claws that tell you — not. Forlorned by my destitute frame. If it were to linger, I would cease, There's still no maker to a God, Neverminded in my doubts. I watch the sunrise, into frail warmth. - You can end it, whenever you want to. -And I'll always be there, morning time — rises. w/ all the love in my chest. -alice xoxo