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Dustin Wills Aug 2012
I think my mom's a homophobe
I think this because she said broken truths when I told her about homecoming
I told her about the girl with soft lips and small hands that fit perfectly with mine
But I just called her Haley

I had new words she told me
They suspiciously matched my schools words
Freak abomination loser
I now wonder if they were talking on the sidelines

I know
I'm supposed to love my mom
But do I still have to
If she hated me first?

She praised the all loving god onto me
Telling me his love was a lie
And I was going with the sinners
To the place where they drink fire *****

I think my mom's a homophobe
I text my religious cousin
Does God love everyone
Undoubtedly because you are perfect to Him

Then why does my mom hate me?
She made me get on my knees and pray
Pray a prayer I hope goes unanswered
By those who I think aren't even there

I think my mom's a homophobe
I know I'm supposed to love my mother
But how can I
If I don't even know how to love myself?

What is that
You're such a waste
It can be cured

Like a snake on the asphalt basking in the hate
Until the asphalt is the road and I am run over by
Self pity. Self Hatrid. Self Absorbed.

Yes **** the terrorists
**** the rapists
**** the robbers
and the muggers

**** them all
Because who I love
Is more important
Me, I'm in dire need of your opinion

Mirrors don't line my eyes up anymore
I think they forgot where to put them
Because I forgot
Where to look

Looking only at the negative
Going on suicide boards
Instead of
Love boards

Why am I the one being subjected to evil
When I am only trying to love
Being hated for only

Mirror mirror on the wall
Who is the prettiest of them all
My lover is the one I see
Her soft lips and small hands

I think my moms a homophobe
And I don't know how to breath anymore
Dustin Wills Aug 2012
My name is Crazy
My name is disgusting, crooked teeth, *****, *****, four eyes, fatty, the pregnant chick.
But they call me crazy
I am not crazy

I express myself in ways no one can see or want to feel
I am not the cold expressionless face of cool
My clothing brands don’t shout the colors of the homophobic rainbow
Nor do my eyes lust after every boy with the sticker on his hat

For every boy and girl I see molded together in the hallway
I feel the sting of being alone
Hidden in the restroom
I see the smear smack and glitter of the makeup they touch up

I am not like them.
Nor do I want to be.
I feel pain everyday
The stifling grip of my depression dulls every sun ray

Some understand this very pain
How dare you try to understand my pain

I’m a teenager hear my angst of being alone like all the other alone people
In this jail cell we call highschool
We are all the same though we crave the different
Under the oppression of the creativity box we are forced into only few see the light

Crying aloud as the same people pile on top I feel their words sting.
The name calling it calls out. Their suffering is obvious
The indifferent face of cool shines so brightly with caring they are blind to it
My name is Christy
Dustin Wills Jan 2012
In corners
In cracks
Building borders

Lies and ****
Love and stealing
No one told
But still revealing

Never spoken
Always cried
Lips sewn shut
In eyes of someone died

Be quiet!
For my secrets..
Well hidden..
Dustin Wills Jan 2012
Everything that used to be
Is now all that has been abandoned
Hollow-shelled and left for vultures
Not even bugs dare to touch the dust ridden and forgotten

A marvelous twisted combination of steel
In all its glory laid to rest
Paint chipped in all the wrong places
Blanketed in dust it rides no more

The blanket rises above all
Everything chipped broken and worn to slithers
All around flecks of red or yellow peak out
But what is all around you is a cold insensitive grey

You feel the unloved and unwanted mask to your skin
You hear the children crying, laughing and shouting
You taste the grey clogging you airways with the reminiscent of cotton candy
You see the pain that the beautiful beast has gone through

Fresh salted water now stains in areas where the dust is
Clumping it together like a pitiful pile of unwanted mud
You now see and realize.
You are The Circus

— The End —