Where I Came From

When a son

Is just like his mom

People think it’s magic, people think

It’s proof of god’s love.

For whatever reason for

The majority of my life

I have resented my mother and my sister

For insisting I was a woman

Now that I realize I was waging war

With the outside world

And they will stop

However they can to help—

I see that I was hitting myself.

Now I have to reconcile as

A son, who is just like his mother

In every way and also

Exactly like his father.

I am now forced to come to terms with

Who I am, who I’ve been, and

Who I have a right to bother.

I am sick of bothering myself and

When I bother others they don’t want me

I think perhaps it’s time

For me to grow up

And recognize that a son

Who is just like his mother

Is proof of god’s love

Even if you don’t believe in her, or

A word anyone says about her—

Eventually

When all is said and gone

Time settles like a dust and

All of what you mix into the air

Breathes with you, like a pollutant

I coughed and coughed and coughed and coughed

And heard nothing but my mothers lungs

Wheezing, making me hack

Regardless of my identity I am not able to change

Where I came from.

Perhaps it’s time I came to peace

With being a son.


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