I was given a name that never felt mine.
A costume stitched tight, I suffocate in their design.
They shaped my steps, carved out my stage,
My world is but a script—their play, my cage.
Gifted a role, “This is who you are.”
But I see someone else, distant and far.
Reciting their lines, I tell a story confined,
The mask I own could never be mine.
“Play your part,” the voices say.
“Find a good wife,” the words betray.
“Be a man. The man you’re meant to be.”
But what if I’m not? What if he’s not me?
Every mirror reflects what I cannot show.
The reflection trembles, silent and slow.
A quiet truth rises beneath my skin,
A war of man and woman rages within.
Backstage, I fit into attire,
Underneath it, my real self emerges clear.
“It’s God’s will,” they demand I embrace.
Heavenly Lord, am I a flaw to erase?
The girl inside begins to breathe,
In fragile whispers tucked beneath.
The audience applauds and awaits for a scene,
But the showman trained is afraid to be seen.
If I play their part, am I truly alive?
If I choose myself, will my heart survive?
To them, she was never meant to be.
Boundless, she is truly me.
