what matters
the apathetic soup reflection bites my tongue the carpet holds me hostage to my thoughts there's a disconnection with my own reflection so pretty so sweet. i don't recognise that face and it's eyes grow bigger, and redder, hungrier a fervid stare that peels and mangles my heart it skins me and feeds off of bitter lamentations to be loved despite the reflection in the mirror regardless of how transparent a solid skirt is the peeling doesn't hurt, im addicted to love what does it matter if i don't know a reflection?
this poem summarises feeling dysphoric for me. i feel attractive but not the right way all the time. i don't always recognise my reflection and it feels like the person in the mirror taunts me. the end is hoping that i can love myself regardless of how i choose to identify my gender.