#trans women's poetry
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fixing-bad-posts · 4 months ago
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trans women r real women trans men wow honey
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sagasolejma · 6 months ago
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The way I inject my estrogen wearing only a loose bra and pyjama pants before falling asleep with my cute little plushies is just full of the exaggerated swagger of a trans girl.
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crystalthayerr7 · 7 months ago
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Suck it or leave it?
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baileyjayy1 · 7 months ago
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Your girlfriend with something extra. 🍆 you like?
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fixing-bad-posts · 11 months ago
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Women can be transgender.
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fixing-bad-posts · 6 months ago
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trans women are just sexy.
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dive-nire · 4 days ago
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so much evil can be mothered in my country, as well as good, and how there’s no such thing as compartmentalizing either. 
How can I love a place that has hurt me this deeply? I’m desolate if I stop, and desolate if I continue—I tell myself, as though I can choose.
- dive nire, METANOIA
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ceejthedeej · 8 months ago
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fixing-bad-posts · 8 months ago
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trans women ❤ i just smile
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outfitqueer · 3 months ago
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In my Trans skin, where dreams softly play, There’s a rhythm that feels just right. Every curve and whisper of my way, Speaks a truth in the quiet night.
Reblog, like, and follow along for more content
@outfitqueer 🏳️‍⚧️
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mayashwood · 2 months ago
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A Pervert's Prayer
My sacred mutilation
Is to you an act of war
So what about all the pieces
You cut off before?
I was born from hatred
I was born in flames
I will know no fucking fear
And I am done with shame
I can take your punishment
And match it blow for blow
You can't show me any hell
I don't already know
I don't want your tolerance
I dont want your lies
You belong to yesterday
And you will fucking die
We are from the future
We're remembered there in song
The time to choose has been and gone
And you chose fucking wrong
These Articles of Faith
Which to you are Marks of Sin
Are written in the scars we make
On consecrated skin
Take the flesh back from God
Make yourself anew
You don't owe him anything
You belong to you
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smolbacon102 · 2 months ago
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Love y'all 😘
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hedgehog-troops · 22 days ago
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somebody save me
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opheliasnotdead · 5 months ago
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In my dream
We are having coffee
at a shop downtown,
maybe Springfield.
You look at me
over too much creamer
and smile
And all at once
I see the years
in a backwards carpet roll,
spanning
the distance between us
Thanksgiving burgers
at 29 palms
and tears over acrid cigarettes
on the torn screen porch,
And god,
I miss you.
I wish
I could tell you
that you really look like
You
now
That I am so happy
to see your insides
Bloom
across your once fearful skin
and your chipped teeth
Braving
the sun that has always
loved your freckled surface
even before
You
did.
I know I will wake
distant
and aching
at that frayed ribbon
Tug
in my heart,
The one that lingers
around the perfect soft curve
of your ankle
as you move steadily
Away
But here
Now
in the verdant warmth
of my sleeping brain
I can finally tell you
I am
Proud,
so
Proud,
Of
You.
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mancinigia · 5 months ago
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reflections of becoming
In the quiet of her room, she stands before the mirror, a reflection fragmented by the shards of her past, each piece a whisper of who she’s told she should be, each fragment a cry of who she knows she is.
Her body, a battleground of expectations and truth, a canvas painted with society’s harsh strokes, yet beneath the surface, a vibrant hue, a color that defies the gray of misunderstanding.
She walks through streets where eyes linger too long, where whispers turn to daggers, and silence roars, where the world demands she fit into its mold, yet her heart beats a rhythm that breaks through the noise.
In the depths of night, when shadows embrace, she finds solace in the moon’s gentle glow, a reminder that even in darkness, there is light, a soft beacon guiding her through the storm.
Her voice, once a murmur lost in the wind, now rises with the dawn, a song of defiance, each note a declaration of her existence, each verse a testament to her truth.
She is a symphony of becoming, a melody that transcends the binary’s chains, in every step, a dance of resilience, in every breath, a whisper of freedom.
For she is not the mask she was forced to wear, not the silence she was taught to bear, but a woman emerging from the shadows, embracing her reflection, whole and radiant.
~ Gia Mancini
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adiharper · 2 months ago
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Elven Mirror & Self-Born
From Fever Dreams; transgender and shamanic poetry.
By Ellen-Adele Harper
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0B67VVS7V
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