Being Trans Wasn’t His Choice

What it feels to be trapped or held captive,

Is similar to giving one’s life a false narrative.

Nothing in this universe had been worse than this,

To be given birth with a disguised bliss!

Until the kid remains five or may be seven,

Entire world seems to him an alluring heaven.

It’s only when he twigs of his whereabouts,

The trans tot cribs for a family and house!

‘’Who are my parents and where do I belong to?’’

He sought his answers even from the morning dew.

Every now and then he could feel there’s some trap,

Unknowing that his life was in need of a revamp!

What it’s to be the third gender, was something he never knew,

Having no idea of his fate and not even a clue.

Playing with boys and prancing with them,

He slowly discerned of belonging to some other realm!

Then arose in him an urge to be like those ravishing girls,

To put on makeup and try for some hair curls.

Crestfallen by his looks, he yearned for a newfangled change,

May be in his mien, body or elan!

This kid knew the anatomy he was trapped in,

Had a disparate connect with his skin.

Yet that soul belonged to him,

But the heart was entirely draped in grim!

Uncloaked was the actual identity now,

Finally, lending answers to his why, what and how.

Sadly, the reality had decolored his rejoice,

After all, to be a trans wasn’t his choice!