homophobia
the isolation she felt
from the ripe age of six,
from the church where she belonged,
but never quite fit.
her school was attached,
and the classes did vary,
but mass 4 times a week,
and daily religion class?
too much for her to bear.
she had a girlfriend of a public school,
she was closeted so she wouldn’t be obscene.
she lived in fear, in dread, in pain,
so she took scissors to her wrists,
then hair,
chopped in off,
in vain.
she left the cursed catholic school and parted to the sea,
though people were the mass o’ plenty
and water was $1.25.
she was called slurs while she held the hand
of her boyfriend, a closeted trans man.
despite his maleness, the jeering never stopped,
one followed with a trash can,
telling them to take a hop.
every night until this day,
she’d beg and plead, she’d humbly pray
to a god she’s not sure she believes in,
please, don’t make me gay.
she’s out, she’s proud, and happy too,
but there’s still the part inside her
that has only the view
of a person who is broken in guilt
that the church so many find love in
has left her with.
she dreams no more of heaven,
just the brutal fall to hell,
just the god that you find mercy with
not ringing her entry bell.
she cannot visit her high school
in fear of breaking down,
not sobbing, no,
in fear not breathing, scratching the wrists
that she scarred some time ago.
homophobia is simple,
it’s slurs and abuse.
it’s the outcome of those actions
that leave the victims so reclused.