Stand me by a mirror
And tell me I’m wrong
That there is not a woman
But a man all along
Staring back
With a glum look on his face
Feeling slightly confident
But torn and unplaced
Spit in my face
And tell me I’m wrong
That I am a woman
Not a man all along
Because I will not listen
It will never be true
I am male
In all that I do
And one day I’ll tell you
And you’ll understand
That I’ve never felt right
And you'll keep hold of my hand
You'll say its ok
Not 'my daughter', 'my son'
That you understand
Each feeling I've become
But I know it's not real
You will never accept
I’ll be left to crumble
With no
There is white falling beyond my window
whilst my body stings and throbs and aches
from my own wrongdoing; I am a fool.
One you should never wish to know:
a hypocrite, a liar and a breaker of promise.
Would you associate with what's beneath?
Every mutilation created with my hands;
Themselves bloodied, picked and scarred.
Every soul behind a screen attempts to reach out and touch me
to say 'I'm sorry I'm not there'
but their hands cannot surpass the miles
only words can travel great distance.
Each syllable touches my heart
and they keep me ticking like a grandfather clock:
one that is old and rusting, barely tick-tocking at all.
A Brief Walk to the Post Office by Realitea, literature
Literature
A Brief Walk to the Post Office
A tepid January,
A Friday afternoon,
The sun hanging low,
And a task there to do.
A trip to the post office,
So trivial, the norm,
In a small Essex village,
Brisk but yet warm.
As I take a walk,
With three letters in my hand,
A rehearsed conversation
All ready and planned.
I cross the street,
To avoid a dog walker,
And I take a brief skip,
To avoid some water.
I walk past the nursery,
So empty and still,
And I look at the houses
And their windowsills.
Some have flowers,
And some have glass,
Others have clocks
And others are sparse.
And I continue walking
Down the sloping street
It sits on a hill
With the pavement,
Please let me know the definition of 'normal', 'ordinary' and 'conventional',
Should I ever fit those labels? I believe not
But I shall make the most of my oddities and push the boundaries I am stuck within
Trapped would never be a necessary word
There is always a way out, an escape, a glimpse of freedom.
I've passed many barriers and this is merely another.
One that has engulfed each and every other border surrounding me my whole life,
Every day it niggled in my mind: during childhood, puberty and now, young adulthood
I'll never quite know in the next passing years how it feels to wake up in the right body
But I'll understand, withi
I apologise for my existence
Would it not be much easier on you
If I was terminated or an entity which never was?
Yet there are things within my own life
Which I cherish so dear
That are almost outweighed by the embarrassment
And the shame I cause you
And I'm sorry
For being born a disappointment…
Stand me by a mirror
And tell me I’m wrong
That there is not a woman
But a man all along
Staring back
With a glum look on his face
Feeling slightly confident
But torn and unplaced
Spit in my face
And tell me I’m wrong
That I am a woman
Not a man all along
Because I will not listen
It will never be true
I am male
In all that I do
And one day I’ll tell you
And you’ll understand
That I’ve never felt right
And you'll keep hold of my hand
You'll say its ok
Not 'my daughter', 'my son'
That you understand
Each feeling I've become
But I know it's not real
You will never accept
I’ll be left to crumble
With no
There is white falling beyond my window
whilst my body stings and throbs and aches
from my own wrongdoing; I am a fool.
One you should never wish to know:
a hypocrite, a liar and a breaker of promise.
Would you associate with what's beneath?
Every mutilation created with my hands;
Themselves bloodied, picked and scarred.
Every soul behind a screen attempts to reach out and touch me
to say 'I'm sorry I'm not there'
but their hands cannot surpass the miles
only words can travel great distance.
Each syllable touches my heart
and they keep me ticking like a grandfather clock:
one that is old and rusting, barely tick-tocking at all.
A Brief Walk to the Post Office by Realitea, literature
Literature
A Brief Walk to the Post Office
A tepid January,
A Friday afternoon,
The sun hanging low,
And a task there to do.
A trip to the post office,
So trivial, the norm,
In a small Essex village,
Brisk but yet warm.
As I take a walk,
With three letters in my hand,
A rehearsed conversation
All ready and planned.
I cross the street,
To avoid a dog walker,
And I take a brief skip,
To avoid some water.
I walk past the nursery,
So empty and still,
And I look at the houses
And their windowsills.
Some have flowers,
And some have glass,
Others have clocks
And others are sparse.
And I continue walking
Down the sloping street
It sits on a hill
With the pavement,
Please let me know the definition of 'normal', 'ordinary' and 'conventional',
Should I ever fit those labels? I believe not
But I shall make the most of my oddities and push the boundaries I am stuck within
Trapped would never be a necessary word
There is always a way out, an escape, a glimpse of freedom.
I've passed many barriers and this is merely another.
One that has engulfed each and every other border surrounding me my whole life,
Every day it niggled in my mind: during childhood, puberty and now, young adulthood
I'll never quite know in the next passing years how it feels to wake up in the right body
But I'll understand, withi
I apologise for my existence
Would it not be much easier on you
If I was terminated or an entity which never was?
Yet there are things within my own life
Which I cherish so dear
That are almost outweighed by the embarrassment
And the shame I cause you
And I'm sorry
For being born a disappointment…
Bind my wrists together whilst I
Reach forth for the door;
Watch the demon arms embrace my
Body as I hit the floor.
Hold me close, don't let this fall
Become the end of me. Help me rise
Above all of myself that I despise
And then the train collides, I realise,
Love is just a sweet, sweet melody,
And then I hear you sing to me,
The music sets my demons free,
They release me:
I fall.
Tender Shadow, Hold Me Close by Gazing-Eye, literature
Literature
Tender Shadow, Hold Me Close
Here I hide within dark shadows,
Alone I'm not; my lover too
Is held back by my looming gallows.
Sorry, my love, I beg thee true,
To not flee me - to hold my hand,
'Til Shadows cease their reign for you.
Against the daggers, I shalt stand.
Do not fret, for here you see,
The daggers cannot hinder me.
The knives come from the tainted keep;
The blows hurt but my wounds aren't deep,
And, from the wounds, my blood does seep,
And from the pain, my demons reap,
But I claim immortality.
Thus soon they starve, and so I laugh,
For not once were we torn in half.
Your real name: Kelly
Age: 16
Height: 5 foot 5 odd
Natural hair colour: Ginger
Eye colour: Blue
Skin color: Fucking red
Glasses/contacts?: Nope, twenny twenny!
Piercings: Eyebrow, lip, forward helix and stretched lobes
Tattoos: Nil
Braces: Had 'em
Mannerisms: Uh, using my hands, chewing the skin off my lip, ending sentences with like.
Other distinctive markings: Uh, I've got loads of little red dots on my hands? Crooked nose? I don't know.
FAVOURITE
Colour: Blue
Band: Steam Powered Giraffe!
Video game: L.A Noire or Red Dead, it's a tough call.
Movie: Hmm, never too sure. I don't really have one to be honest.
Book: The Hobbit
Your real name: Kelly/Kel
Age: 16
Height: 5'5"
Natural hair color: Ginger (yiss)
Eye color: Blue
Skin color: Uh, the skin colour typical of ginger people, red
Glasses/contacts?: Neither
Piercings: Two lobes (stretched to a 3mm and 5mm currently and forward helix)
Tattoos: None as of yet
Braces: Had them for a good 2 years
Mannerisms: Uh, making farting noises with my hands or mouth all the time
Other distinctive markings: Face like a smacked arse
FAVOURITE
Color: Blue, Tumblr/Vriska blue
Band: Steam Powered Giraffe (hey, hey, go check 'em out *pester pester*)
Video game: Red Dead Redemption/L.A Noire
Movie: LOTR trilogy, if I
1) Full Name: Kelly Rebecca Poole
3) Were you named after anyone? Uh, my middle name is named after a child my mum had aborted when she was 16... Isn't that depressing? (In other words, she was going to be called Rebecca but y'know)
4) Does your name mean anything? According to the internet it means war/strife/bright-headed...
5) Nick Name(s): Kel or Keeff if you know me on Tumblr.
7) Date Of Birth: 13/05/96
8) Place of Birth and Current Location: Essex, England.
9) Nationality: BRITISH.
11) Sign: Taurus
12) Religion: I'm sort of in this middle ground, agnostic.
16) Hair + Eye colour: Naturally ginger but that's darkened over the yea
'Ey lee... Its Ellis// You lovable Cass fomr ~CaSt-iEl XD C: Didnt know you liekd SPN tooo geeze wanna meet you now, and if you osplay dang it man we need to cosplay toghterr :3