God Damn His Design

She sits there.
She's just a shell.
She's told to be someone she's not
Or she'll go to hell.

Defying God's true design
Trying her best to fake it.
She cries inside;
'It's just a phase...right?'

She wants a taller body,
shorter hair,
Less famine qualities,
And a low voice to fill the air.

Her own life is falling down,
Falling down like the London Bridge.
No cares to see it,
Or even God damn notice.

She goes to bed in tears
As she curls up in bed.
She hopes it will all go away,
That it's all in her head.

She wakes up for the next day,
Remembering who she can't be,
Looking in the mirror,
Only to see her hair, her eyes, and her face getting in the way.

She's just a shell.
A shell of what people want her to be.
So prays it's just a phase like they told her.
She just prays just like she should be.

She apologizes and curses God for her sin
Of his original design
To not be a her, but a him.

God damn his design.
It makes her more hurt---
Not fine.