GloMag GloMagDecember2018 - Page 345

even as I lie to the woman within me. I wish my mother had then said, “just be,” when God created ‘them’ and me. Being unique, I’m rejected. Conforming to closed mind-sets is difficult, as I try to become someone I’m not. I’m brought down on my knees, my scars hurt and can take it no more. I move in with others like me, who care for me, feed me most of all include me, till I discover the truth of being wanted, only to earn through my youth. Humiliated with spittle ridden words of abuse and curses that sear the soul turning to prostitution was not by choice, they would have torn me to shreds. I go along with the act to keep hunger at bay. Does the soul have a gender? Am I to blame for this gender play? My clothes that define me are just cloth to hide the body, 345