Bitch

This morning I looked at myself in the mirror

and I saw what had changed about me
nothing really on the outside, but the idea of me.
how I was perceived by everyone,
how they thought, one act could separate me from their idea of good
or how my transition would have a long lasting effect of what my life should be.
In their world I was known to be obnoxious,
roaming around the corridors pretending to own them;
talking long, my words coming out like paper from printing press
and as I looked long and hard I realized their idea of an ideal Bitch was staring back at me.
Since I was a kid my mother told me I had the potential,
my casual ways would lead to tough decisions
and now I find myself not knowing who I am
the right from the wrong, the wrong from the right.
The side glances and the hushed whispers were as loud as my thoughts,
a girl whose world was a perfect one in their minds
their stares searing through my soul, judging me like I was some con.
I had something glamorous up my ass they said
'Fabulous' I thought of myself in every 'selfie' I snapped,

so now the idea of a person is judged by what they show,
not what lies deep beneath their skins and in their souls
'oh! so you are her!' they said amused, analyzing my sleeveless shirt
that truly hid the wounds and scars of the stories of my life
'now we know why' their thoughts could be heard from a mile out
But I never really understood what the big deal was about.
So that morning I looked in the mirror and I smiled to myself,
let them think what they want because either way they were  obsessed with me.