They/Them/Me/Myself

©️ 6/1/26 Your Kl0WN.G0V

Have you ever had to

really ask yourself

why

Feels like

glass

So

shattered

Have you ever looked into the mirror

and saw beyond

Saw what

mattered?

A distortion of their mask

Does this role

This hole

You’ve grown yourself into

feel like

A

Fucking task?

Does your

So called soul

match your

own reflection?

Have you ever even

had to

ask?

Then task yourself

and

Ask yourself

What would be left

besides ashes and coal

If you rejected what they

embraced

and faced

the world’s rejection?

Just give up

the veneer of protection

Their world has painted

you with

Could you feel more

Sainted

If you just rejected

What

they’ve

tainted?

And stopped believing in their myth

In

culling of

that myth

Where we all are

Strangled.

All those

fallen and false;

Demons, gods, and angels

Their myth…

In their chosen lies

We still all

Fall entangled.

When we look alone

Into that

Mirror.

We can see

past

what’s shown in that

sharp

jagged

shattered glass.

We hold onto our own

Calcified

mask.

Pacified

hoping we can

pass.

Classified,

tokenized,

fetishized…

from our face

down to our

our

gods

be damned

Fucking ass…

…Can you feel it?

Could you

ever

really feel it?

Wounded

could we ever

really heal it?

Wounds

left by our expectations

of our world

Wounds

expected

of our stations

in the world

Wounds

accepted

as creations

of that same

fucking

pathetic

World.

Wounded

We have all felt rejected

treated as infected

Making fists with limp wrists

straightened

fingers curled

Into a fist

Over

We are

And who we’ve kissed

From the pew

of the hating few

Where spew

of oral

defication

Preaching

exultation

calling for

our

defenestration

Leaders of the nation

Treating

our own existence

as an

infestation

leading to

tribal desecration,

to rival

the community devastation,

They use to scare us

to dare us

to live out loud

Freak flags to be

unfurled

…What if we rejected

their world’s mask that they hold so

Dear?

Pushed together the pieces

Of that token

broken mirror?

Told them that there is no pride

born in looking for a cure?

Would they look inside

Realize we’re all

born impure

In the eyes of those

who have scorn for us

while living in their fear?

Wait

if you’re sick of living

second

rate

Let me tell you

you’re not too old

it’s not too late

To give in

Become everything

you’ve been

told to

hate.

Hate.

Our own

Hate.

We’ve tried to medicate

Hate.

But we’re all

so tired of being

simply

over being

overmedicated.

We’ve sat in

silence

’gainst the violence

and the

Hate.

On that

Hate

our truths we’ve all

meditated.

Hate… hate… hate…

Hated.

Tried to live within the lines

quiet

yet understated.

But I’m quite proud

to live out loud.

As long as I don’t fight myself

when I find myself

looking

in the mirror

beyond

your cure

Beyond

your ignorance

And

your fear.

I’m still here.

A little queer.

And I’m

Quite comfortable

With being

fucking

hated.