Ode to a Hidden Child

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.