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Season of Tears

Season of tears
and it's discovery.
When was I gender aware?
As kid I felt beautiful and strong,
mother's words affirmed as much.
I snuck in tears when hurt.
Later when the hormones struck and
mammaries became beacons, all of them.
Somehow it did not befit anymore
boy's don’t cry. The outside told me so.
Hemingway’s Old Man and the sea
opened the flood gates, wouldn’t abate.
I hadn’t lived it, 'Life' as presented,
how could I feel it so? None had lived it,
not literally.
That singular night the sleep was the deepest calm.

Every morning since life that isn’t mine
sits and rides with me.
Eyes moisten regularly, feeling aware
but haven’t done much.
Just used the season to fall asleep.