Transformation & Change Poems

It started with a prick But that's how it always starts He never did have one, not at birth But a prick is where it starts

A needle, or perhaps the gel That coats his calloused hands A few months in, his throat, it aches He straightens where he stands

The changes happen slowly And not without a fight He loses friends and family But the weight he bears grows light

A man is forged in fire Or made with fear and stress This man is made of hope and truth Etched upon his chest

He does not lose his history Of who he used to be He holds that wandering spirit close And sets her ever free

Sometimes we take and take and take Even when it hurts Greedy, desperate, then we break And in our final momends quake Into something new that shines

It breaks First still — then gone Silence. Then the spark A chain unlatched, a bond undone And heat floods through the dark

It burns The fire isn't fury, it's release A dance of atoms, sharp and bright What once was strain now bends with ease Their breaking births the light.

It holds The wreckage, now a softer thing A shattered shape made whole again Reaction spent, but echoing It ends the way it began With fire in its skin

I am lazy I'm a mess I am clever I'm just stressed I'm a lover I'm a flirt I was built to hurt and hurt I am scary I am mean I'm a pussy I am seen

I am false I am true I don't know Never do Maybe so Only fun Only when I want to run I hope a lie Wouldn't boast Scared always Not by most

My fingers trace over my stomach, up my chest, down my legs I am made of soft fluff and nerves. A creature of sensation, if you will My skin knows tough, craves touch, like my body craves water. I know my body like no one else, its pain and pleasure, its need and desire

I desperately wish I do not. Have you ever fallen, grazed your skin, bled into dirt or concrete? Afterr the lighning bolt of pain and the days of war inside your body, were you left with a scar? There is a numbness to scar tissue that I long to know Fill me with novocain plunge me in an ice bath do anything to stop my nerve endings

Detach me from this shore of sensation Free me—from this shell I know intimately that is not mine I breathe with a stranger's lungs I speak with a stranger's voice Who am I touching, when I caress my skinn? I could love them, I am sure I could love this body of mine, were it never mine at all

I never liked that story Maybe I never understood it Stories where ugly is beauty bore me And it's not like I ever fit Gender is a game That I always longed to quit But forced to play all the same I became a counterfeit

Some ducklings grow into a kind Of beautiful conformity But what of those get left behind In the realm of normalcy Or folk like I who never change Cast with abnormity Never enough, always strange A social deformity

Some ducks will be tarred forever Never quite right enough I stopped trying years ago, however The scars still, to touch, are rough For if I had been left alone And never call their bluff I think of all I could have shown This world without rebuff

Some swans are never beautiful And there are some ducks as well Thought we might not be usual We have our stories to tell So much of who I was is lost Too much now to dwell When growing up inside a box I never may dispel