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there is a robot boy hiding away in my vertebrae and the machine in his heartbeat pulses through my spine and into every pain receptor in my brain. our minds and insecurities and doubts and fears are all the same and all connected and neither of us can get out of our cells. his metal ribs make up the wrought iron cage my body becomes every time she insults it. I’ve been told that real boys don’t cry and real boys don’t look like me. real boys don’t require as much assembly as I do. my joints are steam powered. once the person I am closest to spit in my face and hissed hurtful words that haunt me when I shower alone. pinnochio boy trapped between genders has been splintering apart his chest and packing his pants. pretty girls don't touch damaged goods like me. sometimes I pray that I’ll wake up a real boy. sometimes I pray that I won’t wake up ever again. neither come true.

#ppetry #??#idk #i'm really insecure of my body lately #ugh #spilled ink