I've always wondered
what the last poem I'd write...

Please enlighten me,
how else am I supposed to react...

I have made it through
more hurdles than I can count...

The choices I have made, this one in particular,
will not grant me any reprieve...

The dysphoria feels like a punch to the gut,
feeling fine then suddenly out of place...

The stress builds
until my hands shake...

The longer I am here,
the more I lose my...

And it's not that I don't feel safe with myself,
or with this environment even...

And I doubt I’ll be able to forget
the text messages we sent...

they're so different now
you don't check...

It's been cloudy on my mind and in my heart and in...

if tomorrow you ask how i am,
i'm not sure how i'll respond...