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Tomlinsonsgun Jul 2015
I hate lying to people
But thats all I can do
For my own safety
You know that it's true

Maybe someday
I can wear my colours
Without any insults on the streets
Live can be hard if you are gay

I really try to accept myself
Yes that would be great
But I don't want to have a secret
I want to be straight
Tomlinsonsgun Jul 2015
The straight life is easy
I had a little try
But soon I realised that for me it feels better
To be Bi
LS Jun 2015
Be who you want to be.
Love who you want to love.

Wear what you want,
Kiss who you want,
Say what you want.

It doesn't matter if you
Are straight or lesbian
Or gay or bi or trans
Or ace or pan.

It doesn't matter if you
Are white or black
Or Asian or Mexican.

Be who you want to be.
Own who you are.
And if you have to burn a few
Bridges to become who you
Truly are,

Then those bridges that were burned
Never really mattered
In the first place.
I told my best friend I might start dressing less girly and she got upset. Told me I still like girly clothes to which I responded "I'll dress manly sometimes and girly on other days" she told me that'd be weird and just not right.
KEO Jun 2015
you know?
we are as flexible as those bendy rulers
those school kids buy to measure things with.
the ruler stands straight on solid ground,
but once the ruler is up in the air,
it just flops over to whatever side.
we are so certain on how we
are all suppose to flop to one side,
but sometimes people just flop
to the opposite side.
it scares people and they say its wrong,
but it's just people flopping to other side.
this poem can be taken for religion, gender, sexuality, whatever you take it as :) this wasn't suppose to be anything to serious, just having some fun writing.
Kiarra Dean Jun 2015
I thrive
on definite things.
facts
things that cannot change.
when one of those "facts"
are no longer true
I question myself
and go through a spiral
down, down
down the rabbit hole of depression
self loathing
anger

fear.

do i choose path one?
or two?
or just stay here
on my crumbling
sense of a
"foundation"?
Confusing times about sexuality bring me poems. odd.
Stormy Bailey May 2015
You move.
You shift,
you groan,
you sigh.
Your hair,
you lips,
your eyes,
I am wrapped
between,
your thighs.
And I like it when you move.
Chloe May 2015
So if I kiss a man I am undeniably   straight.
Yet if I kiss a woman I am incomprehensively gay.
And thus if I kiss a man it's a beautiful thing.
But yet if I kiss a woman, then it's a beautiful sin.

It's obvious that I'm apparently different.
But people are just so seemingly ignorant.
I live in a world where general acceptance is hard.
Thus so for me opening the doors that society has barred.

Learning to evolve in life is never easy.
But I am human and entitled to equality.
Therefore when you look at me please think logically.
For I am nor a stranger or a child gone crazy.

I am a human and refuse to be used and ignored.
I deserve to be treated like the girl I am and was before.
An independent, normal, loved and accepted one.
Acting like myself without being rejected and reduced to none.

For if I am gay,  I am illogically  normal.
Yet if I am straight, I am undeniably  normal.
And If I am bi or transexual, I am irregularly normal.
Yet I am human, So thus I AM NORMAL.
Graham C Gibbs May 2015
watching the trains go by
pause with a cold shallow breath
smoke another cigarette
you remember last year

****** up
bottles clanking together
plastic shiny smiles
full of ****
******* liars
fists are so heavy

tear down the curtains
punch holes in the wall
break a window and
fall on your face
sleep on the ruins
burn holes
torn out pages
black spots of your memory

better keep straight
money in the bank
hot food
new shoes
and a bed with two pillows
written in 2008
madelyne knoll Apr 2015
You are peppermint:
Red hair, green eyes, white skin
peppered with polka dots.

And I, a pagan, passive and pathetic,
whose paramour is a ******* paladin
with a perfect face, parted pout and
perfumed persecution, perpetuated by
parliamentary parents who prevent you from prospering.

And I have to pitch a poker face
Pretend that your painted pair of lips pressed on my cheek
do not paralyze me, peach turned pink
over a precious peck.

So what is the purpose behind your pretense?
The pointless promiscuity, part time passion,
and I'm patient--
but god--
let me pamper you, pageant-curls princess,
forget the prestige in your pedigree,
let this penniless pauper into your palace.

You are picturesque, purely portrait-worthy,
But your painted claws perforated my paper skin,
and all I wanted was to make you purr.


*(but I don't have a *****)
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