Life ain’t a bed of roses for all, 

As thorns lay sharp for some. 

So was it for this little one, 

Who was confused with his identity. 

To the world he was a ‘HE’, 

To himself, he was a ‘SHE’. 

Torn between this he and she, 

He forgot what he should see. 

The words pierced his soul, 

Killed him from within. 

He tried to protest but

Stopped when it just increased. 

He found an escape route, 

Through his lovely words. 

That painted beautiful pictures, 

Full of life and soul. 

Years later, the same voices he heard

But now singing praise and

Applauding, “The Poetess of the Year”.

The words felt like flowers. 

The escape from taunts and trauma, 

Led her to the path of poetry. 

That great escape was indeed,

A blessing for a lifetime. 

Photo by Patrick Tomasso on Unsplash