“Being gay is NOT okay!”

At least that’s what my parents say.

My mother looks me up and down,

not a single emotion, not even a frown.

My father swings his fists and screams,

“No son of mine will have such dreams!”

The kids in the hall yell “faggot’ and “gay”

Because not here is being different okay.

They look at me in the hallway with smirks.

They know that being different can have no perks.

They slam me up against the wall

in this empty, lonely, deserted hall.

At church they preach that God would say

“Being gay is NOT okay!”

I can tell from the priest’s face

that he believes that hell’s my place.

This sermon that he gives about hate seems wrong.

Is there anywhere that I belong?

I officially won’t be okay

in this world that hates being gay.

These cuts that can’t go as deep

as I write this letter instead of sleep.

I look up to see the hangman’s rope.

I’ve completely given up all hope.

If being hated for being myself is okay

then I am proud of being gay.

I am who I am and that’s enough.

These words you say will make me tough.

If there’s one thing I’d change today,

I would make being gay okay.