colourblind
to traffic lights
but I know how they're
supposed to look

I walk along
a thinning kerb
frequently falling
stumbling along

nothing stops me
I stay on the edge
this line between safety
and imminent death

~The problem with me
Is that I always try
To force my square self
Into your circular expectations~
*
To quiet my voice
To not speak my mind
To order a salad
Instead of a steak
Cause god forbid
I'd gain some weight
Because god FORBID
I be anything but straight
And all for what?
All for YOU
And what do you do?
You treat me like dirt
And spit in my face
You tell me that I am
A horrible disgrace
Well, maybe the problem
Isn't with me
Maybe you're the one
Who's got a problem.
Not me.