Published on Friday, May 8, 2020 by izzy

Why am I wrong

Wrong is vague and specific.

Wrong is everything that is wrong with me.
Wrong is my dysphoria and my body and the way the world sees me.
Wrong is every time I have to put effort in to the perception of strangers.
and every time I perceive myself through the lens of them.

Wrong is every time someone tells me
how brave I am
and wrong is every time I don’t correct them

The wrong is the tension that crawls over my skin
like I should be smaller
so I can fit in my self

Wrong is every day I say I will do work
and don’t
And is it wrong that I don’t care?

Wrong is when I’m awake at four in the morning
reading about surgeons
because my bones are wrong
and knowing they will see me
and having to trust them

Wrong is the pain I still feel
from having the skin on my face
peeled away
to shape the bone

And wrong is the pain I feel
as I touch my new jaw
and wonder if the shape is right
or look in a mirror
and ask
what’s the point

Until I lie in bed
and ask myself
why am I wrong.