27 Years Old and I'm Still a Transtrender

Night is blue,
Dark yet not-too-dark
In the back alley short cuts
Supposedly making the journey shorter
Yet the fear heavier,
And far more challenging
In heels that click louder than dead bird chirps
Attracting beast starved for another
Drink before passing out on the couch to
Another long day in another shitty job
To another shitty wife to take care of
A dozen adorable -and shitty - children

Yet another girl,
Craving attention from the
Brick walls of the building which
In the morning will be her favorite cafe
By holding up a sign
'Today, I'm a sir;
In heels and a dress,
Call me xir and never her'
As a teenager, it's a stupid phase
For the kids not preppy enough for popularity
Not lousy enough for book worms
Unattractive, with enough respect to still come to
The football games with the could-be boys

It's a trend,
Is what she thought then,
To be bisexual
A mystery, a myth
Only a faker could admit
He's with a boy, must be gay
And she, a boy as well,
Must be straight, like an arrow
And she is literally a he
A trend,
Is what she thought back then,
A mystery, a myth
And yet she still wore it as a badge of pride

She's very much grown up,
With three-hundred dollar books to
Last a semester and hopefully
Enough failed knowledge to last a lifetime
And she can't let go,
Everyday
She holds a sign above her head,
'Today, it's neither
And the pronouns? They're not there.'
And the shoes? Trendy.
A fashionista, for certain
As with labels, she certainly
Holds the prize for trendiest identity

Her love is unconditional,
For the girl who is just as trendy
Just as fictional,
A myth, a mystery
Yet every bit as real in bed
An asexual reproduction,
High school level biology lesson
For a few

Indeed, post production edits
Make life such a breeze
In spite of all the terrors
Of night time thinking
And afternoon drinking
Still, she could say with pride
'Even with this vag,
I'm still a guy'
And when she looks to her partner,
Created in her head,
For certain, even as a trend
The fashionable shoes
Fit just right
And she'd never walk a night without them
Clicking louder than the morning rooster
Warning the beasts around her
She's not a man to mess with

Nor a failure, to the whole
She fights the same fights,
In different ways,
We all fight fights of freedom,
And stress
In the end, the T must have been for 'Trend'
Because no matter how strong the fight,
All is mistaken for a ruse,
A teenage try-hard
Too many girly magazines trend
Though she follows it well,
It still stings a tad
When she does all she can
To help the teenage fashinistas
In dire need
It's still a reduction, a
Mystery
A phase, perhaps
From the ones who've never had to
Feel something so real
It hurt to leave home

She is nothing more
Than she says she is,
Today, the sign is:
'I am who I am,
The pronouns are all over the place'
And even an adult,
With a respectable job,
Trophy wife, model kids,
It's just a trick,
From teenage girls and gay boys
A despicable act
Which can't make the
A for Ally look nice and spiffy

And perhaps that's fine,
Perhaps everything is fine
Perhaps the shoes are indeed too tight
And at 27, a ruse
But isn't it nice,
After 4 years of college training
To show proof of effort
A fashion designer for the trendy trans teens