Complicated (December 27, 2019)

I sit

On the bed's edge

Soulsearchin'

For that missing part

Deep within.

Clasping my face

Tears flow

Into darkness.

Personally

Held Satan's hand

A broken wretch

Before His feet.

Seeking guidance

After cast aside

Damned to Hell

By God's followers.

In sharing

My truth.

Told - have to pay

For my "cure"

By a family member.

When I sought love

And support.

Finding only

Ignorance and fear

In return.

Having played

By the rules

You've set.

Costing me 

My everyday life

And mental health.

Struggling

To rebuild myself

In my own image.

Never sure

If I'm reading

The proper manual.

Forced to improvise

What it means

To be female.

In these transitional times

I find myself

Living in.

Therisa © 2019 

Forbidden Knowledge (December 16, 2019)

How do I tell you

Am so tired

Of constant lying

Who I am.

Filling my soul

With half-truths

That eat away

At me.

Like drops of acid

Destroying my soulscape

Word by word

From your mouth.

Until

Nothing is left

To grasp on

As my own.

This mortal sin

I have committed

In seeking

Life's meaning.

Knowing

There's no turning back

To where

I've come from.

Damning myself

By existing

For all eternity

In your judging eyes.

Where the cure

Is a price

Worse than death

For my disease.

No matter

How I justify this

On a personal level

To myself.

This mortal sin

I have committed 

In seeking

Life's meaning.

As tears flow

Blinding my eyes

To the ones 

Who matter the most.

Drowning

Within a mælstrom

Of self-loathing

And anger.

A vicious circle

That knows

No end

Until death.

As my body

Lays before you

For that final time

Before eternity.

This mortal sin

In seeking

Life's meaning.

Therisa © 2019

Author's note: There are times, I need to release my inner Gothic child. This is one of those times.

Doesn't help, I had Evanescence's My Immortal, as an earwig, for Sunday and today, in my mind. 

Before you ask, I'm not feeling suicidal, or anywhere need being so. Sometimes, a

poem/song forces its way, on to paper. Only stopping when fully written, regardless of

the quality of the writing.

To Dream (July 18, 2018)

Society says

It's acceptable

For people

To be different.

And yet

Reality said

Otherwise.

Especially

When one looks

At the various phobias

Describing violent reactions.

From verbal

Or physical attacks

To outright shunning.

As if

These actions

Will magically make

People disappear

From sight.

Rather

Drive them

Deep underground

To avoid harassment.

Taking a heavy toll

Emotionally

And mentally

Living a dual life.

As depression

And anxiety mount

Of being caught

Even with support.

How people will react

Positively or negatively

To their true selves.

Expecting the worst

Hoping the best

From society.

As we chase rainbows

For the pot of happiness

At the end.

Therisa © 2018

Author's note: I know things have gotten better for the transcommunity, but it's still a scary place for us. Maybe, one day, people will look back to this time, as the beginning of the enlightenment for us. One can only hope so.

An Unintentional Path (March 10, 2017)

Must believe me

When I say

That I am

No one special.

Just a hurting soul

Seeking out 

A way to heal

What has been damaged

Over the years.

In using poetry

As one of my therapies

To do so.

Please understand

My experiences

Don't speak

For the entire

Trans-community.

Rather 

An extreme end

Of the spectrum.

Where 

Violence has left

It's indelible mark

In scarring us.

Whether 

It be physical

Emotional 

Psychological

Or sexually.

In daring

To be 

Our true self.

In uniting

Our souls and bodies

As a whole.

Instead of

The fractured 

Puzzle pieces

We are.

Therisa © 2017

Author's note: Never sought, to become, a spokesperson, for the trans-community, as a whole, with my poetry, to the cis world. Rather, as a means to heal myself, from the repressed memories of abuse, from my childhood, and later on, in my life, as I came out of the closet, as being, a trans-lesbian. 

Not A Victimless Crime (May 18, 2016)

Bullying

A word

That's forever etched

In my mind.

For

I don't need anyone

To tell me

What it means

To be bullied.

As I struggle

With my recovery

After decades

Of bullying.

From chronic depression

Various anxiety disorders

Suicidal thoughts

Agoraphobia

And PTSD.

Which

Is worsen

By being trans.

In doubling

My odds

Over the general population.

For suffering

Depression anxiety

Compulsive behaviour

(like self-harming)

And PTSD.

Would give anything

To never have experience

Night terrors

Or PTSD flashbacks

In my sleep.

As I'm plagued

By chronic insomnia

To the point.

A good night is

Having five hours

Of  uninterrupted

Sleep.

Welcome

To my world.

Therisa © 2016

Author's note: Whether, or not, people realize this, but bullying (A form of abuse) is, a crime of power, which won't go away, as long as, there two or more people, in a given locale . The best, we can hope, is to limit the damage that's done, to the victims, by the aggressor.