when i was 10,
my father said,
"i'll walk the aisle when you wed. "
when i was 12,
my father unfurled,
"you're dead to me if you like girls."
when i was 14,
my father cried,
"slit those wrists, say goodbye."
when i was 15,
my father did grieve,
"pick up your bags, i need you to leave."
now at 16,
my father is silent.
my home is too far,
my wrists are still violent.
my family is none,
my bones have grown weary.
life's closing my door;
deaths locking the windows,
im trapped in a shell
of homosexual innuendos.