one-hundred-fifty-five.

how do you become confident in a name?
one you were assigned at birth?
how do you allow it to roll off your tongue,
without the fear of how others
will automatically perceive you?

tell me.
i don’t know what that’s like.

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one-hundred-fifty-three.

crying doesn’t make me a sissy,
it just makes you uncomfortable.
when you should be addressing my upset,
you shame my actions, instead.

one-hundred-thirty.

why value yourself just on
your time spent at work
and undervalue those you love
for staying at home
to be with their seeds
as they grow into
sprouts and flowers?
why define work
as only what you feel is hard,
what keeps you up at night,
and roll your eyes at those you love
for losing sleep nurturing
their baby bird;
one they made with their own
flesh and blood?