I poem thing about transness as a queer, technically transgender person who doesnât fit with the label.
I thought I saw the tv glow, but it wasnât me.
It was just radio static that heard. Radio static that I confused to be the glowing of the tvâs Iâve seen around me and relate too.
I never saw the tv, it never glowed. But I felt something similar. Something, the same.
I never saw the tv glow because I was already in it.
There was just something inside the real me stopping it from glowing its brightest.
A static in the back of my head, confusing my heart.
Telling it I wasnât me.
But I am me! And it knows that. But the static continues.
Because a radio canât be unplugged but it can stripped from its batteries.
I check the latch. Thereâs still one left.
Whatâs stopping me from making it stop?
Whatâs keeping that batteries acid going?
I need to stop the flow before it overtakes and chemically burns the real me forever.
Whatâs stopping my heart from letting me BE ME?
I donât know why Iâm asking. Because I already know.
I had the chance to take both the batteries out but I pushed one back in. I let the acid overtake me when I had the choice to stop the flow.
Itâs me. I wonât let me, be me.
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