the bones of a girl the skin of a teenager the blood of a small, sick, agender kid

when i die, 
in thousands of years they will dig up my bones

they will unearth me from the soil 
pull my body up into the air 
and they will look at the way i was built

the structure 
joints
that ache so much these days 

they will look at my pelvic bone
and they will find my chromosomes 
and they will say, 

this was a girl. 

this was a girl. 

and i will not be there to tell them otherwise
with my mouth long dissolved into the dirt 
rotted away by time 
silence enforced by death

they will not know that i self-harmed. 
my flesh will have dripped off my bones to return to the earth 
my scars decomposed along with my muscles and skin 
and i will be a blank slate of marrow and calcium

i don't know how i can process that, 
that there will one day be people who do not know my sins 
despite their vicious cling to my body 
claim laid long ago 

but they will know my biological sex
and they will define me by that

call me "she", call me "her"
and i will be helpless in the misgendering

i do not think stars can cry. 
i know that skeletons cannot

but damn, 
the effort will be made. 

The End

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