Spite

You can compare me with orange

and tell me my shape is wrong.

That doesn't mean you're right

and we both know that. 

You just want to make sure 

we all know you're more important.

Your money already explained this.

It has never been about my wrongness,

but my existence.

The fact that I dare 

to be emboldened enough

to be myself. 

I should have known I was meant to hide myself.

The only harm I do to you

is not reacting to your pearl clutching 

with the deference you think you deserve.

A shocking assault to your entitlement. 

Sometimes I wish 

my transness was born out of spite. 

But at least it's still why I can paint my hair blue.

I want you to never forget I'm here.