What I'd want for Christmas is something of an impossible task,

I'd wish for my grandfather to have more time before he'd pass.

I'd wish for my stillborn cousin to have a chance at life,

I'd wish that my uncle wasn't cheated on by his wife.

I'd wish that my arm wasn't broken by the kid who hated the gays,

I'd wish my great grandfather didn't have to suffer from everlasting pain for the rest of his days.

I'd wish that I could banish this suffocating depression,

I'd wish that so many people in the world didn't suffer from oppression.

I'd wish that I wasn't constantly locked into lockers at school,

I'd wish that my best friend hadn't broken her neck after falling off of a stool.

I'd wish I wasn't currently trapped in class and being continuously made fun of for my sexuality,

I'd wish that the world could finally find peace; achieve equality.

But, of course, there's no way these wishes would ever be granted,

I'm a fool for wishing; I'm a fool for hoping.

In a society like ours, everyone is mere as broken as one another.

We are, perhaps, quite too engulfed in that of making ourselves the ideal person, may that be through physical appearance or fabricating our personalities. We always have one thought in mind: "Why am I not this?" or, "Why am I not that?" We concern ourselves too much to the point where it harms us either mentally, physically, or both. Going under the knife to get the desired nose shape or something of the sorts is becoming more and more common as time goes on in addition to an increasing number of insecurities in men and women alike to look and act a certain way. 

This bulky mass of insecurity slowly swallows each and every one of us, whether we realize it or not, and slowly makes us increasing doubtful of our bodies and personalities. It makes us strive for something that is, in the end, not fit for most, if not all of us. The mass takes lives and subconsciously begins to take over others' lives. 

We are not ourselves, we are trying to be like others. Is it true to say, in this case, that we are in fact whole as opposed to broken when we can barely even accept ourselves? 

We no longer

Must fear our country.

Go out, be yourself

Exercise your greatest right:

Acceptance.

I've beat the man we've all been cowering before

Be yourself, nothing more.

"Dyke!"

A descriptor all too familiar.

Sometimes, I hear this alias so often

I forget my own name.

"God hates you!"

So what if he does?

Life has always been a mere struggle

Because of you.

"You're nothing special, deserve no rights!"

Special I'm not, of course, I'm aware.

But of course, we're obviously both not human,

So in your eyes, I'm nothing.

"Stop rubbing your lifestyle in my face!"

Will do, indeed.

For my 'lifestyle' is already practically nonexistent everywhere

But for within the news.

"Burn in He-"

Stop.

I've had enough

Of your little and belittling insults.

It's as if

You live your life to chase me

And ensure that my life

Is smothered.

You're nothing but a snobbish

Person who only cares

For themselves 

And themselves only.

I will no longer sit and wait

For you to break my mentality,

For you to break my bones,

For you to break me.

I am human, after all,

And so are you.

Why can't you understand that?

Why must you hurt me?

Why must you disgrace my existence,

Because I wish to be me

Without fear

Of being hurt?

Oh please, I beg for an answer,

Why am I less human

Than you seem

To be?

I wish to be treated fairly,

Because, after all...

We're all a little

Homosapien.