The first minute I wake, I feel my muscles ache.
I forget why at first, but then I remember and my lip begins to shake.
But I suck it in and ignore my stomach as it begins to quake.
And I remind myself to ignore the masses, my soul isn't theirs to take.

I wrap the elastic tight around my chest.
I smile to myself, because this is when I look the best.
I suck in my gut and step outside to face the daily test
Of if I shall stay, or flee to the west.

Everyday new tormentors come for their fun.
I take on the blows one by one.
But even when I think they are done,
The battle goes on, not entirely won.

Even as I go home, my confidence is shot.
My family hates me so much, they'd leave me to rot.
I ask God to forgive them, being hateful is something they're not.
And I pray and sob on my knees, til my neck is strained and taut.

But I try to ignore the jeers and the hate, and it's really not that bad.
Sure, it's a little hurtful, and a whole lot of sad.
And sometimes I wonder why I don't get mad.
But I'm a different, understanding little lad.

Plus a lot of people understand, although I'm the only one for miles.
So I go on alone, facing all these motley trials.
Embracing my cross, but shielding from the women with bibles.
And trying to avoid the place with white walls, and clean tiles.

I sigh and rub at my short, curly hair.
And I stand for what I believe right and fair.
And I ignore those who stop and stare.
So what if I'm transgender? For your sake, at least I'm not a bear.