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Sh Jan 2020
There was solace in the quiet,
before you opened your mouth

And proved me wrong.

Like a hawk in a hunt, a fresh guard,
I held into my walls.

Surely they will accept me.
Surly they won't.
Black and white together, mixing into gray in a never ending spiral.

Long after you knew and hugged me a warm reassurance,
I told you, yet again, I have never been attracted to a man and probably never will

And you shot the bird out of the sky with your words of,
Never say never.
I'm getting tired of this "we say we support you but still hope you'll become straight" thing my parents are doing so here's yet another vent poem
Sh Dec 2019
I used to be included, back when the group was small.
I used to play the game, back when we weren't yet as grown.

But now, I stopped arriving at the events you planned.
Bailing at last second, the brain yells it's a mistake.

The years flew by, anxiety holding me back.
Back home where I heard of the fun they had.
The lingo they developed, experiences they shared.
Inside jokes and common friends I've never even met.

It's a certain type of loneliness, the friend on the outside.
A certain type of pain when you're the only one to blame.

Stopped to be invited, what did you expect? When you never show up to the insane plans they make.

I'm so tired of being on the outside, being all alone.
Surrounded by my friends and convinced that they don't like me.
So tired of looking through the blinds, only catching glimpses of their lives.

One might say, the solution is simple.
Just get into the new-old group, bland right back inside.
But how will I accomplish it without the proper tools?
I ask you now, how do I get into the room?

Another says I communicate my problem.
Please consider that I'm a human disaster.
Don't like to talk of feelings, don't want to talk of pain.

It's so much easier to repress it all again.
I found a bunch of mostly unfinished poems in my notes so guess what I'm doing instead of studying for my final
Sh Dec 2019
When I die,
Don't let me die straight.
Don't let the world think that I enjoyed *** and romance strictly with the opposite ***.

When I die,
Don't let me die cisgender.
Don't let the world remember me through misgendering.
Don't let them bury me in the wrong cloths,
Don't let them cover it all up with their fancy words.

History came as history goes,
Twisted with every word.
Just because I talked to that one once,
doesn't mean that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with them.

Take the evidence, don't throw it away.
Don't let it rot as it's being washed over again.
Hold it up, don't let them bury me deep down in their lies
Pass it around, don't let them ignore my cries.

Don't let them walk over my grave as I lie.
Don't let them erase me when I die.
If I am to be remembered somehow,
Remember me as the queer that I was.
Found this in my notes from awhile back and you know what? Mood
Sh Dec 2019
Like remoras surrounding a great shark, Death too has company.
Little flecks of despair floating in the air around your body.

Desperate for their master, they harm you.
They can not touch a hair of your body, nor lay a hand on your shoulder.

Instead, they whisper.
Mean little thoughts, innocent suggestions that are nothing if not malicious.

Little proposals masked as questions-
"what if you did"

They can not push you off a building,
but they can urge you to stand at its top during a windy night.

They can not control your body to run in front of the hurrying cars,
but they can tell you-
"maybe you should"

Death has many little devotees, reuniting at the collection of your soul.
Sh Dec 2019
Give me something to drown into.

A branch to let go as I fall into the sweet sugary river,
or an ill advised drink to take as medicine.

A way to focus solely on my breath and nothing else,
an escape from the thoughts that plague my restless mind.

Let me watch the bubbles forming from my mouth, floating up as I go down.
Black space to remind me of peace among the chaos.

Let me forget all the reasons I fell,
the anxiety and gloom that never left my bones.

Let them drift away as numbness take their place.
Sh Dec 2019
What if one day,
standing in front of her cage,
you'll tell the bird that she could be free?

Do you think that she does not know of the limited space you permit her to live in?

Have you mistaken the ruffle of her wings as nothing more that a call for attention?

Do you think she is happy when you Trim her wings?
Feed her seeds? 
Gift her sparkling jewelry?

Do you call her complicated because you don't want to listen to her needs?

Do you believe that she will not squawk and bite strange hands coming to pet her feathers?

Why do you curse the nightingale when she does not sing you a symphony from her cage, but spits in your face?


Birds do not exist to please your eyes.

They don't build their nests for your pleasure, do not grow their colorful feathers out of consideration to your opinions.

Birds,
are simply living beings existing in the same world as you.
A poem from a bird to the cage maker
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