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.