I forget when I took upon mother's role of being your wife,
Dear father when did I stop being your daughter and start being your mother?
My father when did I become the mourning wife crying and screaming for you to save your own life?
Father when did I become your wife?
When did I cease being your little girl?
Father was when I first bled?
YOU ARE READING
A Queer's Rage
PoetryA collection of poetry channeling the rage of one particularly miffed queer person.
