We battle every day,
but victories don’t stop us.
Marriage equality is growing,
but we won’t slow until it is everywhere.

We have our many flags
of different colors and patterns.
We march with them in the streets,
showing our pride.

In the dark alleys, however,
We are beaten,
*****,
murdered.
By these shadowed figures
that we only see in blinding darkness.

Perhaps they are teachers,
parents,
priests,
or our best friends.
We will never know as they hide,
waiting to attack one of us.

Our youth on the streets
because of parents,
once unconditional with love,
now hate and abandon.

We are an unstoppable community.
You can hurt us,
abandon us,
and hate us,
but we will not leave.

If you try to oppress us,
we will raise our flags of many colors higher,
march longer,
and never stop.

I hate you.
The words you use.
The way I flinch
at any sudden moves
afraid it is you
ready to strike.
I hate how you act
like a small spoiled child
when you're supposed to be:
a mother
a role model
a gentle soul.
Why do I love you?
I defend you!
I blame myself!
I'm told I must.
"You can't hate your mother".
So if I do,
I must pretend
and force myself
to love you
instead of hate.

I'm so confused
is this how people act?
Are these extra nice,
or were the old ones just *****?
For once i don't panic alone.
For once people laugh at my jokes.
For once they seem to like me.
people act this way?
Is this normal?
Because i thought this was in movies,
or in stories I wrote
when I begged for a friend.
Am I worried they will leave?
Of course!
I always do.
I probably always will,
but right now
I should enjoy it
enjoy having friends
and have memories
if i'm left alone again.

How many more tears can I handle?
How many more weekends?
Being insulted every time I interact.
Being told to shut up
every time my mouth opens.
Being yelled at
to the point I cant do anything.
Being shamed
to the point I look in the mirror and hate myself.
Till I hate the way I act
The way I dress
The way I look
The way I LIVE!
The tears steaming down my cheeks
begging the pain in my gut to leave
and the weight on my chest
to be lifted
if only for a moment.
The idea of a nice quiet weekend
goes away the minute they awake.
My temporary smile
wiped away.
Replaced with the all more familiar
Fear
Sadness
Anxiety.
I push them down
and try to behave.
I hope they vanish
but I know they come out.
They wouldn't see though.
They're too busy
causing these tears
now dried on my face.

This little pink ball looks so tiny and innocent hidden behind a flap of skin.
I am its master.
You are at my mercy once I take hold of it.

I will tease you for hours and then finally see it.
A little pink ball glistening with your ***** excitement.
Even not a touch, but just circling around it,
playing with the skin that covers it slightly.

I can push down a little and make you lose control.
I can rub it and watch your muscles tense and spasm.
You buck and groan wanting more.
The little pink ball ***** as it will go.

I twist it between my fingers
as your legs twitch and sweat.
As I stop right before you hit ******,
edging you,
teasing you all night long.

I will leave your beautiful red lips,
and put mine to your little pink ball.
Slowing licking it,
as you once again convulse uncontrollably
from the sensation of my tongue.

It becomes too much and you
***
***
***

You lay their exhausted,
sweat dripping from your forehead.
with that goofy satisfied smile on your face,
like nothing else in the world matters.

I watch you and admire my handiwork.
I finally speak,

“My turn”

paper or rope?

Breathing so heavy your chest hurts,
yet you feel like you have no air.
Falling to your knees as you walk into your home,
the sob pushing out of your mouth.

Pulling yourself up
you bang your head against the wall,
until sweet gooey blood
crawls down your face.

Too many feelings this time?
Maybe you need more?
Will writing work now,
or is it just the end?

You had rope saved for today,
already tied in the noose.
Can words save you till tomorrow,
Or have your rhymes all dried out.