"All homosexuals think they born gay..."
It starts in the back, curling beneath the skin.
"Clearly God creates humans not to sin..."
It spreads to the arms, tensing in defense.
"... and so homosexuals choose to live in obvious sin."
The venom builds, fills the hollows in my teeth.
"I'm not homophobic. People can live their lives..."
Reacting could hurt them.
"But you can't convince me that sin is right."
Could, but the venom turns inward like always.
Even if bitten, they would blame me.
I'm used to my own bite, painful though it is.
"That is so disgusting."
And so, I swallow it all down into my stomach.
From there, anxiety takes over:
Propels the venom through my veins.
"How do you know?"
I'm left weak and wondering:
Where did I learn it?
Learn how to bite myself?
YOU ARE READING
Before; After
PoesíaI'm posting this looking for some feedback. Any constructive criticism will be greatly appreciated. Writing has always provided me with solace, by helping me to sort through and frame my emotional experience. During one of the more difficult times...
