they all wanted
to be something else.
not him,
not her.
something new.
fine.
they changed names
like passwords.
cut into flesh
to match the mirror.
rewrote the story.
but time doesn't care.
and when someone digs us up
in three hundred years,
no one will say:
"this one was real".
"this one was proud".
they'll hold up your bones
and say:
male.
female.
nothing in between.
nothing left to fight for.
and you won't be there
to scream.
In the end
© Copyright: Александр Шалыменов, 2026
Свидетельство о публикации №126021207982
Свидетельство о публикации №126021207982
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