(S)he

When I was little, I knew I was different

Other people did not see it, they saw a version of me

When they saw me, they saw a boy playing with cars and trains

I found it fun, did not know what else to do

It did not seem like I could be anything or anyone else

This is who he was, this was who he would be

A brother, a son, a man, a father

There seemed to be no other way but to build a wall to keep myself from wandering to the other side

I had seen glimpses of the other side

Sometimes I was interested but often I pulled myself away

I had built up a wall with concrete and barbed wire

Hoping I would never return, just how everyone else wanted

A decade later, cracks in the wall were showing

How I had built it in my head was wrong

The concrete quickly crumbled to powder, barbed wire dropped off the structure

What was on the other side? Why did they say this was wrong?

On the other side, after after the dust had settled

I saw my inner self staring right at me

She seemed shocked to see me on the other side of the wall

I on the other hand was overjoyed seeing her

I ran over to the other side to hug her, but I went right through

That did not matter, the only thing that did was:

That she was me, and I was her.