The Untitled Poem


Many are against what makes me me.

Usually a pair of converse with cargo pants.

A random hoodie that covers this head

That holds these pretty cheap shades.

The way I talk,

How my voice projects.

How danceless I walk.

My aunt and Mum once told me how to walk like a lady,

But I forget.

I can’t remember each sway and swag.

I don’t understand.

So tell me.

Is the definition of a lady

One that doesn’t forget to rub her face

When it’s covered in makeup?

Or one that never forgets to sit straight

When sitting in a chair?

Is a lady someone that never gets the urge

To love another female

In more than a friendship way?

Especially when that female loves her back?

Does a real lady reject her

And the feelings of gay love

That constantly come back?

Tell me! Please do.

Because I’m so confused.


Arguments come up where I’ll yell over and over

“This is not what you want! This is what I need!

This is not what you want! This is what I need!!”

While at the same time I’m thinking of how this won’t be solved.

It can’t be solved.

Because my life’s a controversy.

Like abortion. Like legalized weed.

We argue back and forth

Controversially and awkward.

Like a white teacher explaining to black kids racism.

No one said this would be easy.

No. it’s tough and it hurts

To have these people against me.

So many, so many.

What am I not human?

To be put below everyone else?

Would I have full rights to all Freedom

If I pretended to be someone else?


But they’re all blind to the diversity of Love.

All deaf to the screaming of the gays

That were pushed and shoved.

Stampeded over in riots against homophobes,

Studied like specimens under microscopes.

Please stop this.

Most use religion

Saying that “This ain’t natural.

This ain’t God’s plan.”

But they’re ‘contradictionists’

Because Love is Love

And interfering with that disturbs our God’s creation.

Aren’t they destroying God’s Love?

Isn’t that a sin or a violation?

Please just understand where I’m coming from

Before you hate me.


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