Analysis of Skin

Look in the mirror and I see
Someone who doesn’t look like me.
It’s skin is tight and there’s too much,
It has some parts that I don’t want.

When people look at me they say
They  see (him/her)
I say okay.
They see my mom, my dad, my aunt,
But they don’t see me how I want.

Avoid mirrors, don’t look at them,
(Every day since who-knows-when.)
My nails are sharp, not sharp enough,
The knife leaves lines
and cracks and cuts.

They let me see what’s underneath.
A different name, a different me.
A different person, all their own.
Not him or her, someone whose grown.
Someone who knows just who they are,
Someone who doesn’t need the scars.

I’ll leave them underneath for now,
A secret I’ll keep to myself.
And maybe just a friend or two,
Until I finally tell a few.
And maybe then my family’s next,
From them don’t know what to expect.
I hope  they’ll look at me and say
They still just see me, anyway.
And call me he or they or them
And use the name that fits my skin
And help me fix some other stuff
So people see me how I want.