The Phase

They love you for who you are, but sometimes words, they leave a scar.

A scar so deep, you question who you are.

like you've been hit by a car,

over and over, and, you're the owner of the car,

moving slower, slower.

Not getting far, holding yourself back,

causing yourself to crack, breaking you own back to be who they want you to be.

Yet they fail to see that you, you long to be free.

To be who YOU are, to get out of the car.

But your mind has taken you far, far away,

you are your own prey, you want to stay,

it's the price you pay.

I felt this, too

almost every day, in the midst of dicovering,

That, I am gay.

I hid myself away, until, it came to that day,

where I had to say.

"I'm gay."

They took it well, I have to say.

But, one day, I saw myself in the car, driving away.

when she says, she loves you for who you are,

the rest is a haze, until she said:

"It's just a phase"


This poem is about: 
My community
Our world


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