Here's the thing,
You are a boy, not really but you try to be,
You are a boy, addicted to masculine words, and pretty poetry
About two boys falling in love
You enter a room and say,
“Hello i am a boy, and if you tell me i'm not ill show you.”
Your fists do the talking when your throat cant,
You come home to your mother,
All black eye, and busted lip,
“I’m a boy!” You cry,
And she shakes her head, eyes wet like
Rain,
You are sent to your room,
To wallow in your disgrace.
Your chest aches,
But you ignore it,
Choosing instead to rest your weight.
Can you tell I've been binge reading Richard Siken's works
