There Is No Poetry In There Poem by Julia Luber

There is no poetry in there.
All there is is a switch: to kill that itch.
To mock all efforts past medically provided
instant change. With no development, no discipline,
no understanding of category DERANGED. There
is no poetry in lazy psychology like that; a complete
redoing like a drug of some dead person's fat as your new found 'gender.'
Swallowing pills and medications as a professions' render
ing of why you're just not happy. Tricking others into who
you actually are is strangely tacky and sappy. Really needing
others constant confirmation by their eyes. To have your
ego shot up through so much disguise and lies.
You are wearing an armband for your need to deceive,
trick, and violate as your gender. IT does not show
respect for what True Nature does render. And to think
of how many sunsets and oceans you've gotten to enjoy.
It is a crime that you of all people would make of yourself
a cruel decoy- parading your narcissistic deluded ego:
as if that's some protection under law so cruel so feeble.
As if you are celebrating and flaunting everything that law
has done wrong as a subsistence to your benefit.
Never a wet dream, never a boner, never an unpopped zit.
Wow, your ego must be feeling far above the real.
What is it about them you demand your fraud to steal?