specter?

[CRNDLSM]

Quick note for posters, 
This poem is ostensibly about my experience as a trans woman; this seems to be the core 

and the people who wish to push me back into the uncomfortable disquietude of self silence. This the method 


Just pointing this out as it seems that that was missed.
I was trying not to assume it

We know only what we see, what we hear
And clearly, to you, I am a specter.
Knowing nothing of whom you speak of
Yet you talk with such certainty;
Never even having let me truly speak.
Is it supposed to be a mystery by this point what youre writing about?  What is it about being trans that they speak of, that isn't you, that makes you a specter. The surface, the stereotypes?

And now, I must understand you,
Your ambition, your fear, your troubles? Must you? Oh it's their expectation for you to understand why you're wrong about who you are, double standard
I owe you nothing, for you never gave me
The chance to be discovered as I am.
You never even tried to see. While I belive that, maybe you could contrast it to someone who is trying to see you, for the reader to know the difference, maybe it could be the specific detail from the first strophe

Instead, you began to conclude, prejudicially
That I am nothing but the other, the outsider
That accepting me is corruption,
Is losing a battle, where you force upon us your normalcy
Never even letting yourself truly hear. 
Show me the struggle of this battle, the two sides, in out, 
You lie about my wants, my dreams,
To your confidants, to make them hate me
Under false conditions; false pretenses.
Am I the monster you fear, or is it all a lie?
You never even cared to know. 
Is it a lie or ignorance?  Is gossip lying? I can't just take your word for it that their word is wrong if I dont know what you're talking about

I am not the end of your war.

You cannot bend me to your will.

I am not your death.
I am not your dog. 

My death would solve nothing; the world still wrong;
The systems you put in place falling apart at the seams;
What systems, old ones, new ones,
And to treat me like such is a fool’s game.
You’re being played in a battle of hate.ill just have to take your word for it unless you show me how I'm being played, mayne show how easy it would be for me to suddenly be made illegal based on other misconceptions
To you, the past be no artifact, the present hold no future,
And I am sick of pretending that you are fit to judge the world as it is,
Not as it was.this also could be elaborated in the poem, even the difference between how it is and how it was, 

Just some ideas to pull your voice through of who you are and how to make me care about what the 'you' thinks of 'me'