Photo by Maarten Deckers on Unsplash

The Young Girl of Sandy Creek

There lived a young girl at Sandy Creek,
Different inside she thought she was a freak;
So she stayed out of sight and presented as boy,
Clothes stolen from mom were her only joy.

Discovery stole those clothes back from her,
So she grew to a man, and some called her sir; 
She turned to God, hoped for love absolute,
But the people with Pride He did persecute.

Within the man she remained fully hidden, 
Resentment and shame became her religion;
Salvation denied from Him up above, 
She married a girl who she came to love.

They bought a house and filled it with children, 
To provide for them was her only mission; 
Upon family she brought her own life to center, 
Then childhood trauma she began to remember.

Through eyes of a man as though a window of glass, 
The girl watched as her life unspooled into the past; 
She wanted the world to stop spinning around, 
A break from the motion, the speed, and the sound.

In the prime of life she was wrought with depression,
The man that she was brought her gender to question; 
Desperation fueled her unanswered prayers, 
Toward Hades she fell through too many layers.

Amidst the spinning she did eventually find, 
A few others like her, people of her own kind; 
Her counselor encouraged a life lived of truth, 
To live in the moment, focused not on lost youth.

The man that remains is very thin veneer,
The fog of dysphoria is beginning to clear; 
With the fear and shame she can mostly cope, 
To the future ahead, her eyes look with hope.

One clap, two clap, three clap, forty?

By clapping more or less, you can signal to us which stories really stand out.