Cramped and small, there is no air
here in the dark.
We cannot breathe, but we will not leave.
We choke on our dreams in their decay,
desperately trying to make a home
of this coffin,
adorning these walls with rainbows turned gray
which we cannot see anyway.
We're suffocating in this silence,
drilling tiny holes in the walls
of our closet prison cell,
searching for oxygen
so we might make it just
a little bit longer.
But we've become addicted to the light they let it,
craving more and more as we long to be free,
staring at our homemade stars until,
it isn't enough anymore,
and we must decide for ourselves,
if it's worth it, to come out,
to break down the unlocked door
and reveal our hidden colors with pride,
knowing you'll knock the first real breath
from our throats.
And though, finally, we are able to breathe,
the decay still lingers in our lungs
from trying so desperately to
make a home of the coffin
you tried to bury us in.
But not all of us survive.
Fearing you will tear us asunder
if we dare step into the light,
we're seeking peace six feet under
because suicide seems easier than
being forced to choose between
living behind a facade of lies
and inviting the danger
of our honesty,
painting targets on our chests,
for this is the price of our identity
in this society.
We are not the abominations you think we are.
We are human too and
have just as much of a right
to be free, as you do.
So, together, we're learning how to thrive, but,
not all of us know
how to make it out alive.