Friday, February 20, 2015

Who I Am








Can I paint my own portrait? Is there a sufficient way to describe myself?
I'm a person of uniqueness, but as unique as everyone else.
A hopeful man who's got the whole world ahead.
And in one fell swoop, I'm as good as dead.
Ongoing fears that keep dreams rotting on a dusty shelf.

To be in love so many times, my soul craves insane.
That it becomes lively torture to endure the mundane,
I want to ride in his car, but I stay in my own lane,
Applying bandages to sores of self-inflicted pain.
Hiding anguished tears by standing in solemn rain.

To know what you are, and to feel it in your heart so strong, 
Yet hearing around you constantly that what you love is so damn wrong.
The craziness soon came and the lies soon followed.
And every word out my mouth rang dead and hollowed.
But, that was the world I lived in, so I kept on soldiering on.

My grannie raised me. That ole gal did the best she could.
I was a stranger in my own house also in my neighborhood.
There were real fucking problems that the world did see.
But instead of real help, she threw a bible at me.
As if reading these old writings would do me any good. 

Every Sunday was hell, wearing a new mask and finding the wherewithal
To put on a front and wait for freedom while I braved the Kingdom Hall
Having to hear the sins and pitfalls of homosexuality,
Looking around to see if everyone's looking at me.
It was times like that I wished I didn't exist at all.

Getting of that house was the best damn feeling. Never felt happy to be older.
Thinking now was the time to fly, but my wings were clipped by worlds much colder.
Not knowing how to deal with feelings that left me anger-prone.
Being constantly surrounded by people and feeling all alone.
It was no longer a chip, but a block weighing on my shoulder.

To look at other men who carry the same love in their hearts as me.
They live their lives with courage, blotting out the negativity.
I used to look at them with so much vitriol and venom.
Wishing I had the lion's heart that they have in them.
Now, I dare to say I stand with them in solidarity.

I can be as macho as the next man. I can be as dainty as a wee little lamb.
Whether I'm in boots or I'm in heels, I'm who the fuck I say I am.
Too much time is wasted caring what others say.
Let it get to you, it's another wasted day.
When it's said and done, they're just another person who don't mean a damn.

Not getting any younger... about to hit a big milestone in my life.
It pretty obvious to everyone now why I don't have kids or a wife.
While I don't go blasting to the world that I'm gay.
It's no longer something I keep tucked neatly away.
All that did was add to the deepening internal strife.

Then I lost my faith a few years ago. That belief in me is gone.
To be honest, it left way long before that. But its ghost still lingered on.
I went from Christian to just thinking there's something up there.
And now each day I take a breath and smell the godless air.
Knowing when I take my final bow, my life has been said and done.

So I'm an atheist heathen and a sodomite. 
With a shrinking big belly and skin like night.
I'm a smart mouth bastard who doesn't know when to stop.
I'm damn a good bottom and a decent top.
I'm a person whose loved and seldom had it returned.
Each disappointment is taken as a lesson learned.

I couldn't be another person if I wanted to be, 
And I'm pretty damn tired of having it pushed on me.
Why apologize for something that can't be changed?
Believe me, I've tried. It only made me deranged.
Now I'm shaking that nonsensical mythology.
Your Islam, Judaism, Christianity.
If it makes you a good person, all the power to you.
But believing it heartily don't make it true.

Your doctrine says I'm a sin? That's okay... I don't give a damn.
Ancient books don't define me... they don't make me who I am.











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