All of my poetry about identity/my identity as a transmasc!
27/50
When navigating the game map,
look out for hostile territories.
Marked clearly in red, these zones are open only to some.
If wearing the wrong gear,
being in the wrong skin,
or being in a team with someone doing either,
you will find yourself unsafe in these zones.
Now, you may disguise yourself,
but you’ll find your health and energy depleting slowly,
fear and sickness and exhaustion status effects added.
Though a game that should be an open-world sandbox,
you’ll find that many of the programmers have harsh opinions on those that play it wrong,
and will use their powers, in a strategic, planned way,
to ensure that you play the game the way they prefer.
You’ll see them adding updates only to those zones, adding damage and restrictions only for those players-
those that wear the wrong gear,
or play in the wrong skin.
So much for open-world sandbox.
So much for total freedom of choice.
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[derivative tranny poem]
There is no body in that coffin
Nothing for the worms to eat
Nothing for the earth to take
You hold a funeral for someone that did not die
someone that lives in your home still
different, and better, and happier
There is no body in that coffin
Only respect
it died the day i came out
Only regret
it died the day i saw you mourning someone still alive
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Mirror
Female, says the mirror
Staring back in discontent
Stamped like a printing error
Made with the wrong intent
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Solidarity
and in the middle of the end of the world
i will still text you
to tell you how to change your name
because dysphoria doesn’t stop in a pandemic
and solidarity is all we have
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