words of me, myself, and i

"fag tag"

"fag tag"

today, i went to my nanny's house.

it was alright at first

until i got a stain on my pink blouse.

it's not so bad.

but what really made me lose my marbles

was the "fag tag" remark

in which my pawpaw and my uncle used

about a dozen times.

you know, family is not supposed to judge you.

in fact, nobody is supposed to judge you,

but they still do.

there's nothing we can do.

my sister and i asked about piercings;

our family told us their opinions,

laughing about their rude and offensive

words.

they said people "fag tag" themselves once they decide

to get a tattoo or a piercing.

they said,

"only sluts get tattoos and piercings."

small, big, little, large,

size doesn't matter.

apparently, you're still a fag

and still a slut.

i guess i'm a fag.

i guess i'm a slut.

i guess, i guess, i guess,

but i'm not.

my appearance, your appearance, our appearance

does not change the person inside.

appearances don't affect your heart

even if it changes your look.

the way to end a poem like this

is to tell

all of you that

i'm not a fag nor a slut

and neither are you.