They, Please

It's been going on for months now.

They continue to paint me pink

She, her, daughter, female

How do you tell someone you're not a girl?

Of course, I will always be biologically female-

But what does that have to do with anything?

I don't know how much more I can take.

I'm not your daughter, your girlfriend, your niece.

I'm not a she.

I am your child, your partner, your sibling's kid.

What do I prefer?

They, please

Please put down the pink paint,

Listen to me, now.

I'm not a girl

I'm not a boy.

I am merely a human,

Barely surviving and on the verge of tears.

Whenever people reference me as "female",

Another knife pierces my skin.

I wish someone respected my gender

Maybe they can pull the knives out of my back.

Until then, I continue to suffer in silence

My mouth gagged, unable to speak my mind.

I can't wait until I meet that one person

Who will ask me one lifesaving question;

"What do you prefer?"

And for once, I'll be able to answer through happy tears:
"They, please."