Blog,Gender & Identity

The Illusion of being Broken

Posted By

On Jan 8, 2019

By Iah Moon

Puzzled with wrong pieces, too many wrong pieces
Pieces that are stubborn and won’t fit
I tried to form an image
An image with the inability to be recognized
An image I tried to paint
At least
But I ran out of colours
I never had any to begin with
So, I used my imagination
Spent every waking minute creating my invisible masterpiece
Every stroke of my paintbrush having no effect on the canvas
The canvas drinking up what I thought was colour, leaving me with nothingness

You see, I try to walk up right, but my bones are weak – fractured
My mind never recognizing my body
My masterpiece that just won’t reflect to the naked eye
You are blind to my very person
Force feeding me the illusion of being broken
Shoving broken glass pieces of dysphoria down my thoat
While you watch me choke on blood infused with your perception of a man

I was never broken
I simply wasn’t given the right pieces to build my puzzle
I never chose the pieces assigned to me
I was illuded into believing I was broken when I wasn’t

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