I wish to be understood, I should hope or want, But I’m too doubtful for that, I wish for you to overlook your personal biases,
To see the person blooming before you, Whenever I try to describe myself to your restricted mind, You only look at me confused, As if you can’t see me as myself,
That’s not it, Not to you, You can’t see me as gay, Can’t see me as masculine,
That’s against your god, So do you regard my identity as a disease? An ailment that you can simply love and pray away? Or do you think I’m too young to know?
Might not make a difference, Both are horribly insulting,
See me for me, Or don’t see me at all, I know that’s absolute, But it’s my truth