Dear Dictator

You are a leader of your word, yes?

No.

Where is my vessel you never promised?

Where is my physique in which I can finally be satisfied?

You crafted me so utterly wrong.

Thine evil loathes me, do you not?

I am tired of this body in which I cannot host,

I am tired of downward spirals, eternally debilitating me and my life,

I am tired of being perennially reminded of how agitatingly different biology is for me and my soul.

Spotty patches and stinging scratches,

I am tired of the pain, this catatonic ache, this gut wrenching reality in which you impale my fucking dignity.

Wickedness thrives, understanding does not.

Malevolence prospers, acceptance will not.

Hatred flourishes, empathy does not.

Excruciating pain, paralyzing breath snatcher, drag me down to anguish.

I wish for your death to strike upon you as jaded as you had created me; be gone, be dumped into your mythical kingdom of hell that you fabricated.

Suck me off and weigh me down,

You and your tyrannical tirade have won.

Euthanize me, oh leader,

For I am not normal.

I hate being a tranny,

I hate me,

And I hate you.

- D.