The Scale With No Numbers

Entry 6:Not Good Enough

A Scream And A Whisper Are The Same To Me.

There stinging words are just the key.
The are slowly killing me.
I want to flee but with no were to go were do I stand?
Am I disowned for not loving only man?
To whisper my name as if just saying it out loud is a disgrace.
I was born in the wrong time,the wrong race.
Society to judge me before my own home and even there im not left alone.
To stand at the gate in the frezzing snow and told im nothing but a empty void.
To see them laugh in my face when i cry and they say,"shes fine."
She must be...
But your not me...
I sometimes wish to be grafted on a different family tree...
But who would i be?
I wish I could tell a whisper from a scream because it'd sound more beautiful when I drown