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i'm bitter, i've not much to say,but constantly people calling me gay
say not what they know but what they believe,
will not leave me alone, to distance my relief.
i hate them, i despise them, i'd get rid of them now,
yet the law prevents me from doing so, but how?
i know it has a certain grasp,
an iron grip if you will,
but i feel as if i'm sitting on top of a hill:
a target, a bullseye, something to be shot
so if i move, i'm only falling, closer to the guns
to the ones who surprise me, again and again,
the ones who shall make my heart and mind begin to rot.
i'm bitter, i've had much to say,
but now i realise that all i have to say
is that i don't understand, i'm a child
too naive to notice that nothing in this world
is as naive as i.
Poetry by Tristan L.
Read 417 times
Written on 2007-07-08 at 18:39
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