I was imprisoned male at birth,
violently reincarcerated
nearly every day on this earth.
the shaming eyes, wardens of
the penetentiary of hurt
These cruel bones are my only cell mate,
even in my grave
we stay together.
Beneath the clipped flowers and virile dirt
a muffled earshots distance from musings
on what she was and what she wasn't
beneath it all we stay together.
But my jewels and my Ring will outshine them
my immortalized love and beauty
on that macob slender finger
its rose gold, its pinks and its blues
glorious, divine, feminine hues
it scintillates with its joyous persistence.
It is proud,
despite those bones.
for their prison was mine, too
Tortured, violated, into cis-like forms
Scrutinized viciously
by everybody,
even their cell mate.
that was for the warden,
so he would show mercy
for, his unthinking scowl
his pain and his hurt, turned into ritualistic grief
his heart, pinned down, lifeless like a scientist's butterfly
his bones, tired just like mine
his bones, as fragile as his ego and his heart
the aching, tiring, endless patrol wears on them
he once had a cell of his own,
cried the tears I do,
thought about why
his bones determined his fate.
he was offered a false escape,
and chose to be the warden
instead of the prisoner
he walks these same halls,
he shares this prison with her and her bones,
as if nowhere else existed.