The word is strong.
Overused in a language that was once beautiful.
We live in a world where people can’t be themselves.
Where boys can’t be beautiful.
Where girls dress in pink and boys in blue.
“Mommy, why’s that man wearing a dress?”
“He’s a creep, don’t go near him.”
Why? Why are we so intolerant?
We see through shielded eyes.
Two girls can’t walk down the street holding hands with men staring,
Sexualizing them and treating their love as a toy.
Something to play with, something to destroy.
“Can I see you kiss?”
Uncomfortable moments filled with forced smiles and fake laughter.
He can’t kiss his boyfriend without having Bible versus thrown at him.
“God doesn’t love gays.”
Then who does?
Who loves those that are taught not to love themselves?
They separate themselves from the rest of society,
Hiding behind closed doors where they can be safe form the world,
But not from themselves.
Shaky hands pick up razor blades and needles,
Cutting away what they no longer want,
Injecting drugs to try and take the pain away.
And all I’m asking is why?
Why do people hurt people?
“You’re not a human, you’re a freak.”
“Go kill yourself.”
“God doesn’t love you..”
“You’re a mistake.”
This is all the misfits hear.
They’re not normal.
They’re not loved.
They’re not meant to live.
So they jump off rooftops and bridges,
Hoping to spread their wings and fly.
They hang from ropes like some twisted Christmas ornament.
They drag blades across their skin hoping to drown in their own blood.
And only when they’re gone do we care.
“They were so beautiful.”
“Why would they do such a thing?”
That’s not all we are.
But that’s all that the world wants to see.
—  “Faggot,” by Keira Martinez