Tonight's Poet Corner: My Dysphoria
My Dysphoria by Belinda Roddie See where the buttons pull, hard, across the rolling hills that form my bosom. How I wish I didn't have to resort to binding to feel comfortable in the clothes I wear. Because the shirts are either too snug when they fit everywhere else just right, or too billowy when they accommodate the chest. Will I ever have the money or courage to go under the knife, or will this small mountain range infringing on my space ultimately prevail in the end? This is not me. This is not me. This is not me. This is not me. This is not me.