In youth, the anger would burn bright.
The world would resist me, and to last the day i would strain and push, only to contort as the recoil boxes me in, tighter at dusk than it was that dawn.
Handed down clothes, Oversized Blazers, Belts and Buckles, Stories to escape,
In adolescence, Others begin to notice a subtle change, only, I’m thankful that’s all they notice,
Because inside I’m a cauldron of rage, angst, resentment and self loathing.
Howling, Howling, Howling. But i won’t let a single sound escape my lips.
Lies, Truth, Shame, Violence
Beg, Borrow, Steal, Leave.
Learning to live with the fact i will never be as wealthy as the people around me,
Learning to feel comfortable enough in my own skin that it doesn’t offend me when the middle age woman crosses to the opposite side of the road, looking over her shoulder wildly as we both walk home in the dark in coincidentally the same direction.
Learning to understand that my mother will always hate the part of me where she thinks my homosexuality resides.
Learning that I only have me.
Knowing my life sorrows have made me self involved.
Knowing that sadness makes me laugh and joy makes me cry.
Knowing i will have to wear the scars that litter my arm like warpaint.
Knowing that when I laugh or cry, there is an immoveable part, in the deepest part of my stomach that remains hungry for the affection I’ve been starved of.
Knowing that the hunger can drive me forward if i can bear the pain,
Just a little more pain, a little more, more.
Voices, Voices, Voices, Voices.
Understanding that alone, I have very little and limited power.
Understanding that my life will never be simple.
Understanding that by looking directly in to someones eyes, i can gauge and feel the amount of sorrow they’ve truly endured. Avoiding doing that.
Understanding that I care


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