The hum of your song, sings me to sleep It’s the only thing that makes me comfortable Your voice it pulls me in so deep Into the light, out of the miserable Sing to me my angel, Free me from this prison. I walk among the living dead, I walk without a mission. The silk reverberates across your tongue Tell me that I’m special Tell me I’m the only one. I’ll make you my queen when you are done. You are my song, the one that plays so beautifully You are my song, the one that plays so magically You’re my magical girl, with that life saving gaze You are the one for who I’ll change all my ways. You are my song. My beautiful song. So sing to me.
Dear world, I have something I have been dying to tell you.
For some time I have known something about myself that most of you don’t. I know myself better now than I ever have before.
So I have decided to end my hiding. to let myself live in the light from now on
I spent far too long wondering how you would react when I told you. Now I know, how you react is not my choice it is yours alone I am who I am I cannot change and I don’t even want to I am not ashamed I am no longer afraid
Your acceptance and love is valuable but I can stand on my own feet and when I my feet get tired and my legs grow weak they will catch me. I am loved I am accepted And love overcomes all.
So when finally break down the final wall of this cage and I tell you *** Whether you choose to love me for me or not I will be okay because I am loved I am accepted and I am strong We are strong and we are not going away
I am the same me I will speak I will be a voice for the voiceless I will be me and I will never be silent
This poem was written during my coming out process. The line of ****** is meant to be a place for any sort of confession or truth to be placed. For me it was, "that I am gay" but this line can chance for any person or situation. If you are working on coming out or anything else like that please feel free to use my poem if you would like. I would like to ask for credit of some sort if you repost. Thank you for reading. x
I hate labels. so you may ask me why do you compulsively put words and purposes and dates and times on everything you have. I hate labels but I love organization. The problem with labels is they rarely tell the whole story. Labels are short, just a snapshot of the essence that the thing or person boils down to but I don’t believe anything can really be that simple. Labels can make everything easier. You get the main point, the thing that stands out, FAST. but that’s like starting a story at it’s ******, you get no previous information and that high point that holds so much meaning if you've read the entire story turns flat. A flat character doesn’t grow or change or feel all that much but they usually have a label. Labels turn real multidimensional, complicated, interesting people into flat characters. He is not gay. She is not a cutter. and He is not transgender. They are real people and you cannot possibly fit a person into a single worded description of the thing that stands out about them or makes them different. That is not enough for me! The gay guy likes ice cream and romantic comedies, he's afraid of commitment, that scar is from his own blade and he volunteers on Wednesdays. The cutter is seventeen and she lives with her grandparents. Almost everybody shes loved has walked away. She has hair the color of sand at the beach and she wants to work in security at the airport so she can finally have control over who leaves and who stays. The transgender man never felt trapped in the wrong body, the world just told him that his body was wrong. He’s a freshman in college and nobody ever told him how hard it would be. He calls his mom every night because he knows she worries and he cares. He has skin the color of caramel and he desperately wants to get married. I hope you now understand that a label is never never enough. You could argue that I’m afraid of being defined and of defining others with just a word, but if you ask me a fear of labels is a very legitimate, considerate, and justifiable fear to have. Labels are simply not enough. And that's why I hate labels.
We live in times of innovation. Winds of change affront the nation; wind most welcome – by a few (the masses know not what to do with engineered progressive change, their morals slow to rearrange). And thus, in ornithology we find an apt analogy…
Phoenix-like the vulture rose in rainbow raiment, from repose Its plumage all askew – a freak: a mutant with a painted beak borne of winds but lately blown. This strange new hybrid (yet unflown) did twitter forth an avian boon. It preened its plumes and croaked a tune:
“I represent that rarest fowl, far wiser than outmoded owl… A dazzling swan of change am I brought forth to liberate the sky!”
(Yet more appeared a fractured emu; fair is fowl post-op… they tried to cross said emu with an ostrich! (What the hell – the surgeon got rich changing apples into – mangos; altering the twos to tangos…)
Fresh from gender suicide he moulted into she. Beside herself (itself?) with grief, regarded previous selves as false: discarded Sir for Madam overnight; fixed it, mixed it, made it right. Since God was wrong the first time ‘round, Man (or something) thus is bound hormonally to tweak and mutate, hastening rebirth’s freakish due-date.
A manly bass – and yet the face was poorly paired in his/her case Soprano ought to have resounded – yet the voice left one confounded.
Rainbow bracelets notwithstanding this was clearly modern branding (on the forehead – like a beast?) well, Jesus said the truth at least: that angels are of neither gender (hence no need to check the member.)
Lest we offend endangered species I commend transgendered theses – paired with warning and a fable as they turn the feathered table:
We may nurture fair to foul while nature shrieks a hideous howl but foul to fair cannot return; thus trapped, both Eve and Adam burn.