This is a poem on my experience growing up and being gay, confused by this unknown thing that I was becoming and slowly hating it.
It began when I was young with the vision of two parents seen by a son who thought everything was fine. From this grew the idea of a life I'd live, a life off happiness with a wife and kids and everything looked fine in my mind. However, it wasn't long before things began to change and expand due to my insides being transformed into butterflies, seen first hand as the result of looking at a man. Something that should not have happenend seeing as everything was perfect and fine. These feelings grew inside like a tree, with the roots digging into my heart. The pain of difference detroying me and ripping me apart. Though, I survived by camouflaging the growth inside with thoughts and feelings that people believed were true or believed for sake of being kind in virtue. To them, everything was fine and I believed it too, hiding even from myself the facts that I knew but I hated. The vision seen of parents and a life when I was young, just an innocent son, though there for no malicious intent, screwed with my mind and as I grow older it's become more apparent that I'm broken. I thought everything was fine. The tree inside now dying along with the carcuss it holds as it's host. I can no longer remove the roots from my ghost, permanent as a tattoo they'll scar my skin but these are parts that I'm supposed to be liking because they are me. There's nothing wrong with them but I can't help but dislike when I see a reflection in the glass of a distorted version of myself, that will never reach the expectations thought of by one's self. Expectations no one else holds but me. It's a visious cycle of hating myself then hating myself for hating myself and so on until I'm out of breath, choking on life. What happens when there's nothing left for me? no reason to keep fighting though I'll always bleed and stain the ground I walk on and drown myself until I'm all gone.Why can't this all just stop on command when all i do is demand and wish it to go away? I'm really trying to remove these thoughts of negativity, but they're an infestation of weeds that work against gravity and sprout up through the ground though I've layered it with tarmac. Even now I think back and wonder why I think in such melancholy ways when I know it's not that bad being in amoungst the gays because I like being this way but don't at the same time, which makes this all so confusing and what makes me wine in words. In rhyme. Just when I thought everything was fine. God what is up with my mind?
It began when I was young with the vision of two parents seen by a son who thought everything was fine. From this grew the idea of a life I'd live, a life off happiness with a wife and kids and everything looked fine in my mind. However, it wasn't long before things began to change and expand due to my insides being transformed into butterflies, seen first hand as the result of looking at a man. Something that should not have happenend seeing as everything was perfect and fine. These feelings grew inside like a tree, with the roots digging into my heart. The pain of difference detroying me and ripping me apart. Though, I survived by camouflaging the growth inside with thoughts and feelings that people believed were true or believed for sake of being kind in virtue. To them, everything was fine and I believed it too, hiding even from myself the facts that I knew but I hated. The vision seen of parents and a life when I was young, just an innocent son, though there for no malicious intent, screwed with my mind and as I grow older it's become more apparent that I'm broken. I thought everything was fine. The tree inside now dying along with the carcuss it holds as it's host. I can no longer remove the roots from my ghost, permanent as a tattoo they'll scar my skin but these are parts that I'm supposed to be liking because they are me. There's nothing wrong with them but I can't help but dislike when I see a reflection in the glass of a distorted version of myself, that will never reach the expectations thought of by one's self. Expectations no one else holds but me. It's a visious cycle of hating myself then hating myself for hating myself and so on until I'm out of breath, choking on life. What happens when there's nothing left for me? no reason to keep fighting though I'll always bleed and stain the ground I walk on and drown myself until I'm all gone.Why can't this all just stop on command when all i do is demand and wish it to go away? I'm really trying to remove these thoughts of negativity, but they're an infestation of weeds that work against gravity and sprout up through the ground though I've layered it with tarmac. Even now I think back and wonder why I think in such melancholy ways when I know it's not that bad being in amoungst the gays because I like being this way but don't at the same time, which makes this all so confusing and what makes me wine in words. In rhyme. Just when I thought everything was fine. God what is up with my mind?
