I have grown,
Yet people think I have fallen.
I have known,
Yet I am tired of calling.

A mere boy at twelve years of age,
I became something frightening.
A mere child who turned a nasty page,
The change struck like lightning.

I had seen abuse,
Trauma plagued me each day,
I dreamed of noose,
Thought God would make me pay.

People met my words,
I called them ******* and ******,
Mocked them as *****, geeks, and nerds,
For my mind had few doors.

My homosexuality burned within my being,
Struggling against the bonds of religion.
I did not want people to start seeing,
My ****** "sin", fragile as a caged pigeon.

I cut into my wrists,
Hoping for some truth to seep out,
Every day I encountered lists,
Of similar youth who "noped" out.

God hated me, that I believed,
He wanted me to bleed then die,
I knew not how to be relieved,
Knowing my pigeon would never fly.

But as the abused grow tired of abusers,
I became tired of God,
Whom dealt me a life of users,
A life significantly flawed.

My situation was not enough,
For the pain did not end with abuse, or cutting,
He dealt me the deaths of three I loved,
Set on the task of my gutting.

Or so I believed at the time,
When God harbored within me.
When mythology guided my climb,
When I remained unfree.

I threw off the shackles of religion,
No fictional being could **** my pigeon.
What God would put me through all that,
Then proceed to bless a sewer rat.

What God would **** children,
What God would **** children?
You do not have an answer.
Why do children die to cancer?

I will respect you,
But I will not share your belief.
Too much pain, for me and others,
It continues to daily reap.

I have grown,
Yet people think I have fallen.
I have known,
Yet I am tired of calling.