Ode to a Hidden Child
Not all monsters have green eyes.
It was this empty kind of death.
An eternal sunken slumber.
Since my beginning breath,
I had felt since I could remember
The bitterness on my lips,
The taste of my dark secret.
On my tongue and fingertips
A hidden child’s regret.
It was not a spinning descent.
Not a slow, sinking fall.
The urge that burned inside
That ached and burned and screamed:
I have to tell them all!
The choking, swallowing deep
Shoved my heart beneath my mind.
And forced my secret to keep,
Buried deep for none to find.
I could’ve gone insane, I say
I should’ve gone mad.
However I could not refrain
From the smothering, creeping sad.
I had left my body then and
Left that girl for dead.
But I still revisit her corpse sometimes
To open up her head.
How did that girl survive so long?
However did I endure?
When did I find, not far behind
There was never any cure?
With my heart, my mind, my soul
I found a cure, the one true cure
To fill the ever-widening hole.
A seed I planted in my dying, withering self
had sprung from a seed of fear and need
To a budding picture of health.
I found a new me, so shiny and free
And ready to share her story.
The girl who once would’ve come undone
Instead of sharing in the glory.
That me that I had found
Was not a prison.
But the me inside of me
That had finally risen.
So I threw away my fear and
Emptied out the closet.
I gave away my hatred and
Forgot that I had bought it.
Don’t fear the you inside of you
Because of what they say.
Be true to you and realize
That it is okay to be gay.
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