There is a version of myself She learned to do her makeup and her hair And she could laugh just right She has her place on my drivers license And my email signature There is a version of myself Who took hold of a single cold november And kept being he through the hurt I see him in drag And the anger inside myself I need that feeling of a sharp right turn A deep churning carnival feeling Weighted blankets and binders A good fuck that leaves you hollowed and shaking Some way to even my brain From the highs and lows of feeling Bits of pasts and unpasts that leak out trying to take this waveform And write it as a single line In a string of code that will reveal My secret self To whoever finds it Like myself at twelve Screaming singing on a bicycle In a suburban bubble To push away loneliness Or myself at twenty one Collecting invitations And comments And catcalls Condense me until I’m both and I’m none The she that learned to do her makeup and her hair And wore push up bras And laughed just right The he that took a single november Of drag and recklessness and art And did as many drugs as he could without touching anyone Push me back into myself So that there’s only one left Right now I’m twelve year old tears And twenty one year old confidence Stuck in something that is dying

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