My name is....

I hate my name

I hate how it sounds and tastes

Maybe it’s because I wear tight clothes to compress my chest

Or because it reminds me of purple glitter

Perhaps my hatred boils from the knowledge of who chose it

Carelessly named after a film, a character

Expectations already in place

Or perhaps I despise labels

One word could not possibly encompass someone's entire being

And I’m spoiled

No word that falls from tongue and teeth

Could feel right to be called to.

So, furthermore I will dread

The pit in my stomach when introducing myself

And though I claim

Much love for myself

I can’t bear to speak my name

Or explain

this shame