When did I become
That which you wanted to hate?
When did my life mean so little to you,
That you'd pass no interest in my fate?

Was it when I became myself,
The woman I've always been?
Did you prefer me to front a constant lie
And leave my pain unseen?

Was it when I made those simple mistakes,
When my mind was revealed to be so broken?
It was never my fault that it hurts so to think,
But you'd rather I left my pain unspoken?

Maybe it was when I came out?
Revealing that unacceptable part of me,
Was it really something to despise so much;
The perfect stain on your family tree?

Perhaps it was at that funeral,
When you saw a child that couldn't seem to feel?
Perhaps if you cared to even notice,
You'd have seen that my sorrow was real?

Or perhaps I'm just projecting.

Transgender Identity.
Autism and ADHD.
Homosexuality.

These are all just excuses
From a mind begging to see
Why the one who should care
Seems to deeply hate me.

But let's be real.

Hate has nothing to do with it.


You need to care, to hate.

And you clearly never did.