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Literature Text
My identity, like gravity
has always been there to push me
but now I'm floating to the ceiling,
not knowing what to do with myself
once I fall.
Every stitch that I once thought
would keep me bound together 'til the grave
is dissolving, evaporating into murky grey haze;
I don't know who I am anymore.
I'm unwinding at the seams.
has always been there to push me
but now I'm floating to the ceiling,
not knowing what to do with myself
once I fall.
Every stitch that I once thought
would keep me bound together 'til the grave
is dissolving, evaporating into murky grey haze;
I don't know who I am anymore.
I'm unwinding at the seams.
Literature
Why?
Why am I binding my chest?
So my boobs are hidden.
Why am I asking people to call me Seth?
Yes, I like the name, but is it more than that?
I joke and say that if I was a boy I would be bi.
But do I really want to be a boy?
Why?
What?
I'm so confused.
Why do I have plans?
You wanna know them?
For Christmas I plan to get money.
I plan to get bandannas,
And boy clothes,
Boy shirts,
Boy pants,
Boy boxers,
Boy belts,
Boy hats.
Oh god.
What the hell is wrong with me.
Why?
What if my mommy knew?
What about my daddy?
Why is life so stressful?
Why do I want to be a boy?
No I don't want a sex change,
I just want to be like a
Literature
Homophobia
This one goes out to
that boy on the street,
whose father wouldn't look
at him when he caught him
kissing another boy.
This one goes out to
that girl on the ground,
because her mother
couldn't handle that she'd
given birth to a lesbian.
This one goes out to
all those hurt by words,
like 'dyke,' 'faggot,'
or 'queer.'
This one goes out to
all those who thought
they could tell anything
to someone.
(only to find,
they could only tell
some things.)
This one goes out to
the boy lying six feet
underground, because
the world didn't like
who he "chose" to love.
This one goes out to
the girl who sobbed
in the shower, when
Literature
maps are easier to read
She peels thoughts like
clementines
and
butterflies
until
there's nothing left but
all these roads
leading to everywhere and nowhere
at
the
sametimetimetimetime
and she calls it
Rome
and says that she is not lost
(she never ever was.)
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I can't tell if my muse is going or not. I'm just fishing out my thoughts.
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I thought I was alone, you know?