Since we've been apart I haven't cried for you
I did all my crying when I was trapped in your web
Unseen, hidden, mocked, ignored, belittled
Pain held no sway over you unless it was your own
My tears were weightless yet you used yours like bullets
Wounding, conquering, until I was small and tucked away
Yet even after becoming so quiet, somehow I could offend you still
By my very existence, it seemed
Loving a whirlwind took its toll
But here I stand, tall and peaceful, happy, content
In spite of it all
In spite of you
It’s forgettable- the number of times I was called a “fucking faggot” as a kid. As a former child of god, I wasn’t expected to know what those words meant. I was taught that repentance was vital to achieving everlasting life. My momma made me go to church every Sunday. I said my prayers as I was told. But I eventually learned that Catholicism was never my sanctuary. Christianity was never my safe-haven. God never stopped the cheap shots. He never once prevented the harassment or pure embarrassment that I felt from the words of my “kin in Christ.” Now, picture me- a helpless faggot, blinded by the incandescent lights of an old catholic church. I was home from college spending Spring Break in my former hellscape. So, naturally, my momma yet again made me go to church. This time, on a Wednesday. It was Ash Wednesday. When I was among the folks from home, I felt out of place. So much that I’d imagine camouflaging myself. Like saber-tooth in hiding. But the difference? I had a far mo...
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