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deviation in storage by grthink

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Sometimes I look at myself and everything's just wrong;
I've got nothing where there should be stuff and random bits stuck on
and there's changes happening to some parts as time's moving along
but there's nothing I can do to change the way that I was born.

I don't hate my body, mind, it's been good to me through life
and I know some of it will be fixed with help of surgeon's knife
but I need some help convincing folks I'm husband, not his wife
when my voice betrays me, but to tell them could cost me my life.

And I know I should be grateful to live in the time I'm in
when things are moving forward and I can show the man within
to doctors who can help me to rearrange my skin
(as long as I fit narrow meanings of what 'a man' means)

This body birthed a child who's been my saviour to this day
so I can't wish the body I was given clean away
but sometimes wistfully I can't help thinking of what may
have happened if things had been different had nature not betrayed.

Sometimes I look at myself and wish that I could change
the parts that distress magically, my body rearrange
wish I could make ordinary things that I find strange
swap part-for-part, like some bizarre anatomy exchange.

For now, though, I must watch the change that's brought about by meds
and look to all the things that doctors tell me are ahead
and through the pains of difference there always runs a thread
of hope; that one day I'll no longer be misread

as something I am not and never was despite the way
the papers tell us what we're told at birth is what we'll stay
until that magic moment - 'sex-swap surgery' - they'll say
we're finally the sex we say we are upon that day.

But I digress; for now I'll try to accept this physique
and remind myself I've options now, the future's not so bleak
and write my sadness, rage, and raise my voice so I can speak
so others might find their pain isn't really so unique;

so their pain becomes my pain, and my pain becomes theirs
'cause we're all in this together, and our stories we will share
to lift each other up, to treat each other with such care
and love each other when the world seems just too much to bear.
I rage because children live fearful
for their lives, because our answer
is always more bombs, because we think
that dead children are collateral damage
and that their parents deserve the despair
of losing a son or daughter so precious.

I storm because my peers forget
that people are real and they bleed
and they feel, and they cry, and they
lose their will to live when babies
are torn apart by a force they can't control
sent by the government of a country
that hates them, and they don't understand
why hatred exists, what they have done
in their ordinary lives to deserve it.

I cry because it could so easily
be my little boy raising his arms to a camera
because he believes it is a gun
because it could so easily
be my little boy having his world
destroyed by people he's never met
because it could so easily
be my little boy laying dead in the dust
of wartorn country full of fear.
A woman films swans swimming serenely on the lake.
Her camera doesn't see the kicking feet beneath the surface;
nobody sees the force the dignified creature puts in to every stroke
of its huge webbed feet, propelling it across the water
in a way that seems so effortless, to the casual observer.
But while we see a gentle, carefree meander across a lake
the swan knows pain. The swan knows the battle of endeavour,
the power it must exert in order to fulfil its journey.
The swan knows struggle, it knows how to push itself
to painful limits and beyond in order to achieve its goal.
All the watcher sees is a swan gently swimming across the water.
Every person is a swan, and the world their watchers.
Nobody ever said, of me,
"and those eyelashes - wasted on a boy!"
but they were.

One Christmas morning I awoke
excited for a bright red bicycle
my first, red for strength and fire;

but it was pink.

The little boy I was knew pink wasn't for me
(though the man I became adores it)
and disappointment seared through me
interwoven with the guilt of the audacity
of feeling disappointment.

Of course, my parents hadn't known
I desperately wanted a red bike.
They saw their daughter and thought
she was beautiful and pink suited her.

Nobody ever said, of me,
"What a bonny wee lad! So handsome, so strong!"
but I was.

When I was ten I was so desperate
to fit in with the other boys
that I joined the school football team.

but I hated football.

I tried with every fibre of my small being
to play, and to play well, like the others.
But sport of any kind was not my forte,
perhaps an omen of the broken body
my adult self was to find himself inhabiting.

Of course, I was never one of the boys
I was the tomboy. Worse. The wannabe-tomboy,
a little girl who cut her hair short
but couldn't even kick a ball across a field.

Nobody ever said, of me,
"He'll grow up to be a good man one day."
But I did.

Seventeen years later I found the courage to stop
trying to be the best girl a guy can be
I discarded her, the itchy suit I'd sweated through.

but she follows me.

She is a weight ever-attached to my ankle
taunting me with well-meaning but false pronouns
and pricking me thousands of times a day
with every 'love' and 'darling' from a stranger
with every 'I'm sorry! I thought you was a geezer!'

Of course, they aren't to know, and
of course, it won't always be like this, and
I need to grow a thicker skin, really.
The perceptions of others shouldn't define me.

Nobody ever said, of me,
"Congratulations! You have a beautiful baby boy!"
but they did.
I’m sorry that I let you believe
the bullshit binary beliefs
of cis society on sex.
I’m sorry I wouldn’t let you
speak up for yourself.

I’m sorry that a midwife
slapped your arse and declared
you were a certain type of person
based on what she saw between your legs.

I’m sorry I let you let them
dress you up like a pretty doll.
Looking back, you were beautiful
and I am sad for them
that you never existed.

I’m sorry I never told anybody
that the reason all your teddy bears
were boys, was because you felt
closer to them, that way.

I’m sorry I didn’t speak out.
I’m sorry that the boy within you
was hidden for so long
that he thought he’d disappeared
for far too many years.

I’m sorry you were so surprised
by blood between your thighs
though they’d told you to expect it
you’d prayed it would never arise.

I’m sorry for every lip gloss
in your sizeable collection
gathering dust in landfill
and I’m sorry for painting you
into a person you didn’t recognise.

I’m sorry I let you go off the tracks
into the bed of anyone who’d have you
I’m sorry I put you in so many
dangerous situations. I didn’t know.

I’m sorry I made you live
a heteronormative life of domesticity
without letting you question
who you were, because other people
were always more important than you.

I’m sorry it took me so long.
By now I’ve realised that this apology
is not to some unknown ex-person
but to my own self.

I’m sorry that I ever tried
to pretend I was something so foreign
that I never understood, even as
I played the role that the world
had so cruelly pushed upon me.

I’m sorry it took me twenty-seven years
to man up. To admit I was wrong.
To tell the Universe that it was wrong…
or maybe, like me, it knew all along?

I’m not sorry to be where I am now.
I’m not sorry to be ‘in the wrong body';
I’m not sorry to not fit expectations
and I’m not sorry that my body’s
considered a variation on the norm.

I’m not sorry for my smooth face or high voice
though I wish they were different
they are material wishes to aid the world
in seeing me as I see myself.

This apology’s not to an older self
it is to me. There is no pre-me and post-me
there is just me. The only thing that changes
is how I present and am perceived
and how I want the world to perceive me.

I won’t speak to my former self, because he
was never she, he was a little boy like any other.
It was me who pushed him down
and now it’s me who will revive him
and give him the life he deserves

and now it’s me who will revive myself
and give myself the life I deserve.

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quinnypin's Profile Picture
quinnypin
Quinn
Artist | Student | Literature
United Kingdom
"But I don't want to go among mad people," Alice remarked.
"Oh, you can't help that," said the Cat: "we're all mad here. I'm mad. You're mad."
"How do you know I'm mad?" said Alice.
"You must be," said the Cat, "or you wouldn't have come here."


I'm Quinn Capes-Ivy. I'm your average twentysomething queer and transgender parent, radical feminist, mentalist, cripple, emotionally unstable, arrogant, self-absorbed, narcissist. I have one spouse, two ex-fiancés and a kid not fathered by any of them. I have diagnoses coming out of my ears. Life is a constant battle between me and my hair. One day I'll be rich and famous, but I don't know what for yet. I drink altogether too much tea and am addicted to my electronic cigarette. I love body modification of all kinds. If I could be an animal, I'd be a rat. I have the world's most awesome and inspiring family and friends. I like to sleep in of a morning. Trying to be the best damn person I can be.

Interests

Fibromyalgia International Awareness Day

Journal Entry: Mon May 12, 2014, 8:18 AM

Today is Fibromyalgia International Awareness Day. For those who don't know, I suffer with fibromyalgia, and it is a very real and debilitating illness. This post is an informational one - if there's anything you've ever wanted to know abou
t fibromyalgia, you can ask me here - no matter how personal - and I will attempt to answer you, either here or in a private message. I want to raise awareness of this condition which is so maligned by media and dismissed by the medical profession.

Head over to the Fibromyalgia Association UK where you can find out more and even donate to the charity if you want to.


Journal History

If I published a hold-it-in-your-hands book of poetry, would you buy it? 

50%
3 deviants said Only if it contained some new material.
33%
2 deviants said Yes, definitely.
17%
1 deviant said Only if it contained all new material.
0%
No deviants said Not under any circumstances.

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:iconjasperinity:
Jasperinity Featured By Owner Jan 4, 2015
Happy birthday! :D
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PawPatrol156 Featured By Owner Jan 4, 2015  Hobbyist General Artist
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:iconrushy:
Rushy Featured By Owner Jan 4, 2015
Party Happy Birthday! Have your cake and eat it too
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AVisionOfphotos Featured By Owner Mar 27, 2014  Student Photographer
Dont you just love random Deviant XD
= 1 fave and a Watch its your lucky day :D
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:iconbirthdays:
birthdays Featured By Owner Jan 4, 2014
:woohoo: :party: :iconcakelickplz: !!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY !!! :iconcakelickplz: :party: :woohoo:

It's January 4th which means it's that time of the year again and your special day is here! We hope you have an awesome day with lots of birthday fun, gifts, happiness and most definitely, lots of cake! Here's to another year!

Many well wishes and love from your friendly birthdays team :love:

---
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This birthday greeting was brought to you by: ~KoudelkaW
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Offering Featured By Owner Jan 4, 2014
:cake:
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:iconjasperinity:
Jasperinity Featured By Owner Jan 4, 2014
Happy birthday! :D
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Rushy Featured By Owner Jan 4, 2014
:party: Happy Birthday! :cake:
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not-an-emo-girl942 Featured By Owner Dec 3, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
Thanks for the :+fav:!
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:iconquinnypin:
quinnypin Featured By Owner Dec 17, 2013  Student Writer
You're welcome! :)
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Blaise-Katzchen Featured By Owner Nov 17, 2013  Student General Artist
You... are amazing. <3
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:iconquinnypin:
quinnypin Featured By Owner Nov 18, 2013  Student Writer
Wow, thanks! What brought that on? :love:
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:iconblaise-katzchen:
Blaise-Katzchen Featured By Owner Nov 18, 2013  Student General Artist
Your very welcome :D

Haha. Well, I made a post looking for good/interesting poets and i was referred to your page. Naturally, i started reading some of your poetry and WOW!They blew my mind! :O

Idk, you just seem like an extremely interesting person (in a good way) and you are one seriously fucking talented writer! I'm starting to make a list of my favourite writers/poets and you are the first (well second, but first who isn't a friend of mine =P) to go on that list. 

Thank you for sharing such amazing work on here! I'll definitely be reading any new work you upload :)

Have you ever considered publishing your work if you haven't already? 
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:iconquinnypin:
quinnypin Featured By Owner Nov 30, 2013  Student Writer
What an intensely flattering and cheering comment! I would love to publish, but I... I guess I don't have the confidence in my ability to do so that you seem to have! ;)
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