It’s simple as that. I’ll be strong through tha haters. Who are the haters? How many times have I directly been called fag? Or homo? Or even gay? Never. I’m scared of a world that I can’t see.
But isn’t that the most ferocious world of them all.
It lurks behind me while I walk down the hall,
It slithers over my feet while I stand in the lunch line,
and it lays just out of sight under my arm while I sleep nervously in physics class.
gorges in my chest, ready to burst forth, and engulf my sight,
but will it? It usually remains,
restless, inside of me, demanding only attention.
Weary, dirty, constant attention.
Who is scared of something that doesn’t exist? If I told you that there was an intangible bear behind you, would you run? What holds me here in place, frozen and speechless, when all I wish for is words?