Don't you dare spit hate in the name of a savior who only intends to save you.

A savior who supposedly gives children as gifts to his disciples and then teaches his disciples to hate said gifts if a book deems them wrong.

You're wrong. Your words are filth, ***** and disgusting as children learn your hateful way, entrusting their innocence upon you though you do them no favor.

All this from a savoir who only wants to love.

Please! I've yet to find a shred of evidence that suggest this life is serious, yet people hurt and torture and burn those they do not understand.

I digress; Mother I have something I must confess.

You always told me, treat others as you wish to be treated, but I... I've been defeated.

I find it impossible to sit with these people, their mouths like broken fountains spewing forth hate like the burning lava that once consumed Pompeii.

Their words are hearsay and to this day I cannot find it in my heart to believe in a god that preaches hate. Mother please tell me! Have I sealed my fate?

My eyes are too light;
My skin is too white;
My legs are too long;
My accents too strong.
And for all these reasons plus more I do not belong.

Their words echo in my head,
You cannot identify,
You're poorly bred,
You do not belong,
You are not accepted.

I am not English,
nor Irish,
nor Scottish,
nor Chinese,
nor Aboriginal.

I cannot identify as Australian because ninety percent of Australia is from European decent and I. Do not. Belong.

Who am I? Who are you?

These words, these truths, they rattle and roll in my head as I lay atop my bed.
This is my heritage, my family, my blood. Yet I do not belong, I do not fit, I cannot identify without another part of me contradicting it.

Please... Pull me apart at the seams and tell me what my inside most gleams like.