I had an actual post I was working on, but I haven't been able to focus. I've been dealing with a lot of chest dysphoria lately, so I decided to write a poem about that instead. Please note that when I say I've written poetry, I'm not following a specific form. I go with the flow of what comes to me. So, here it is.
The Weight
There's a weight upon my chest.
It just began to grow.
It once was flat, but now it's not.
They told me this is how it would go.
I thought that I'd be fine.
It's normal, that's what they said.
Yet there's a nagging anxiety in the back of my head
There's a weight upon my chest.
One side larger than the other.
Only by a smidge, yet I want to cry for mother.
Something isn't right.
Couldn't one just shrink?
I don't care if they're small,
Even not there at all,
Not a single wink.
There's a weight upon my chest.
It only makes me feel fat.
None of my shirts look right.
How can I fix that?
Do I need to diet?
Find a boyfriend who likes my boobs?
I'm feeling very empty.
There must be something I can do.
There's a weight upon my chest.
It's driving me insane.
It's shrunk a lot,
I'm so damn skinny,
Yet I still feel the pain.
It's hard to see an indent.
I still feel fat.
I still feel wrong.
Someone please, help me.
I don't know what's going on.
There's a weight upon my chest.
It's grown back out again.
Every bounce.
Every flounce.
It's all I see when I look down.
This shirt isn't that low cut,
At least that's what I thought.
I wish I had worn a tshirt,
Even if that doesn't fix it all.
There's a weight upon my chest.
I need to crush it down.
I bought myself a binder.
Will this help me now?
There's a new kind of constriction.
It's different to breathe.
But, oh my god, my shirt looks right.
I don't feel fat.
I'm free!
There's a weight upon my chest.
I cannot bind today.
There's phlegm in there.
I need the range,
To cough it all away.
But, now the sadness has returned.
Again, I'm feeling wrong.
I feel so much more aware of this.
After having a solution for so long.
There's a weight upon my chest.
The sickness still remains.
No matter how much I want to
I cannot bind again today.
This is wearing me down.
I'm getting very tired.
There has to be a permanent way
To tell my chest it's fired.
There's a weight upon my chest.
One day I could have it cut away.
But, that's easier said than done.
It's an awfully large bill to pay.
It's not just the cost.
Such procedures are apt to affect one's life.
After all, recovery lasts far beyond the day beneath the knife.
There's a weight upon my chest.
Until it's gone away,
I'll bind when I can.
If I can't, I'll just have to say--
"Don't think about it.
"Don't look down.
"It will all be okay.
"Chest or not, what makes you, you isn't going to change."
