Can I get past my shame
to tell about myself?

About my fear
to be different
my fear of the reactions
that may change everything

I want to laugh, live
a festive life, come on
put on music, let's dance
and maybe we'll trust

each other enough
to be open
It's not an exam
we don't have to fight

ourselves, sorry
for speaking on your behalf too

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚙𝚊𝚋𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗.
“𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚕 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚏𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠.”

𝙴𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜, 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚜, 𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚢.
𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚜, 𝚗𝚘𝚛 𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚟𝚞𝚕𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚋𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚘𝚛 𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜.

𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚍𝚎𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙𝚜 𝚘𝚛 𝚜𝚞𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐.
𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚟𝚒𝚎𝚠𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏.

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚋𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚗𝚐 𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚒𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚠𝚎𝚋𝚋𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚞𝚎𝚜.
𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚞𝚕𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚒𝚌𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚕𝚢 𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚊𝚕 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎.

𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚌𝚕𝚘𝚞𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚊 𝚘𝚏 ‘𝚏𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏’ 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗,
𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚊𝚋𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚕𝚢 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚔𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎.



𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚒𝚌𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚗’𝚝 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚟𝚒𝚟𝚊𝚕 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚝𝚜, 𝚏𝚞𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝚊𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚎.

𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚏𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚘𝚛 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕.
𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖 𝚘𝚏 𝚏𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚜𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖 𝚘𝚏 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗.



𝙳𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚟𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚑𝚘𝚠.

𝚂𝚘𝚌𝚒𝚎𝚝𝚢’𝚜 𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚙𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚌 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚎𝚗:
“𝙼𝚎𝚗 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚌𝚛𝚢.”
“𝙱𝚘𝚢𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚋𝚘𝚢𝚜.”
“𝙼𝚎𝚗 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚐.”
𝙰𝚛𝚎 𝚙𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚝.

𝙰𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚛𝚢, 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖, 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚞𝚌𝚌𝚞𝚖𝚋 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚊𝚍𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝.
𝙷𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚞𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚊𝚢.

𝙵𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚒𝚝, 𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞,
𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚐𝚘.

𝙻𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚗 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚒𝚝, 𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚒𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛,
𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢.



𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚞𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍,
𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚞𝚢 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊 𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚎𝚔-𝚝𝚘-𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚎𝚔 𝚜𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚎.
𝙰 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚏𝚞𝚕, 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚏𝚞𝚕 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐
𝙱𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚕𝚢 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝚊 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗.

𝙰𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚝𝚘 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚟𝚎 𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚍
𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑.



𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚞𝚛𝚝.

𝙸𝚝 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚋𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚍𝚍𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚗 𝚟𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚝 𝚙𝚑𝚢𝚜𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚗.
𝙻𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚒𝚝.

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚒𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚝
𝙾𝚛 𝚊 𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚞𝚐 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚎𝚖𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚙𝚜 𝚞𝚙 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚎.



𝙴𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚕,
𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚊𝚋𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚍𝚊𝚙𝚝 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚒𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚜; 𝚒𝚝 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚕𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚜𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚙𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛.

𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎
“𝚆𝚑𝚢?” 𝚖𝚊𝚢 𝚋𝚎 𝚊 𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛.



𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚓𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚢 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚘𝚛 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚘𝚏,
𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚝’𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜.

𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚘𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚙𝚊𝚝𝚑.
𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚍𝚊𝚢𝚜.

𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚏𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚍,
𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚕𝚕 𝚓𝚘𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙴𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚑.

𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚜𝚌𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛,
𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊 𝚜𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜,
𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗.

Call them white, grey or black
the clouds of nice words

and concealments
in which I'm standing

for the sake of convenience while
taking one step closer is easy

I don't have to know much
maybe even nothing

of you
to dare to show

my colours: brown
my thoughts, mosaic

my emotion, without any pink
of shame – my supreme

and most beautiful, honest
I, worthy of myself

and the all-seeing eye
of the world, blue

is my blue, violet my violet
no gold, nor filters

Daddy's friends like to laugh
and have another beer
to watch me
when I bring it

but today they fall silent
you could be bothered yourself
with a difficult daughter
who posts poems

about *** and the love
of her father and
a distant lover

What is the matter with him
and this interest in my inner self?
Too bad, he does not understand

Only in fantasy can I express
what I need and
what makes me angry

I am finished with being a muse –
The victimized wet-dream of art
Who, slowly turning on a dais
Raised on superficial planks,
Will soon be a forgotten toy
That once loved, now has lost its charm,
And crushed into a corner waits
Till memory renews its rank.

The gods can have this blessing back.
I'll mar my face and tear my hair
And burn my robe and crown of gold
And wade in mud up to my knee,
Or suffer cows and sweat for milk,
Or brave a sea of mug and chair.
Oh, silver platter-washing, I
Would gladly be ordinary!

Yet, bar-girls also have to feign
And feint from lofty thoughts of He.
And milkmaids, too, are often set
Upon a stool above their wish.
From scullery to cloudless mount,
If privy parts inverted be,
You serve the wielder of the wand,
Obliged to lie down as his dish.