Crossdressing

My arms are weak and my torso is slender.
I comb my hair and iron my clothes.
I barely make a sound when I walk.
Tears come easy to my eyes
Even at the smallest pinch or punch.
My voice is gentle even when I want to be fierce.
People degrade me even if I want them to stop.
I bleed and starve and fake,
To become the man every girl wants to see.
I repeat “I am myself.”
That muscles do not mean boy,
Brass chords do not define gender.
So why do I feel the need to
Break
And tear
And destroy my very own life
To fit the shape of every girl’s dream.
Why have I ruined me?