Who am I?
You are a human my child,
that's who you are.
Boys call me gay before they hit me.
Men at church says fagets are going to hell and then they look at me.
They believe they are special my child.
Their is no greater lie than believing one is lesser or better than someone else.
Then why do they hurt me so?
You are different my child.
When we are not used to seeing what we see everyday,
our reality is challenged,
and we feel that we must have what was before.
Why so mother?
I want to be like them all:
know I belong.
You do belong my child.
You are living on this Earth,
home to all of my prized beauties.
You are human my child,
therefore I love you and so does the mother who gave you her lap as your home.
Mother said she did not want a fag in the family.
Brother said I'm nerdy and then called me a fag again.
Why must I be so different?
No one wants me.
If all of life was same, my child,
then I would not need to work anymore.
As a mother, life would seem boring and undesirable.
I love you my child and so does that other lost soul who clings to you
and yearns for you love.
But mother, why does my mother want me to leave?
Who loves me?
Why do they love me?
Why must someone like me exist?
Child, as the Sun sets, mother must go,
as I must tend to the hearts of my other crying children.
Your mother, the woman who allows you to reside on her body,
caring and nurturing you forever,
will never say no to you or any of her children.
The one who loves you,
looks at you through shy eyes,
also cries to me as you do,
because he too suffers.
You are art, my child.
You are beauty.
You are the one who love belongs to.
And as mother leaves,
the boys at school,
the men at church,
are all human,
nothing more or nothing less.