The Age of Innocence.
A time when I knew nothing
Of boys, of kissing, of Love.
I knew only that I was happy,
Contentedly different.
Time passes,
Cruelty grows.
Young hearts turn callous,
And reject what is not like them.
I still don't know who told them,
Why they knew before me.
"Faggot," they'd yell.
"But no, I'm not."
Misery ensues
Years spent crying,
Rejecting what I am,
Craving what I'd never have.
A shiny, silvery, liquid mass:
My answer to it all.
Countless evenings spent,
Shuddering in the dark,
Afraid to bring an end to pain.
Innocence was lost.
Time had passed,
Things had changed.
Difference was no cause for contentment.
Who would choose to be what I was?
I was a thing, a monster, an abstraction.
I was the face of everything bad.
And in that silver blur,
I found the comfort that I needed.
An option that did not need to be
chosen to have its effect.
Yet still time passes.
Silver liquidness runs into the past.
Confined to its vial it is powerless.
I now am powerful.
I have become who I am.
Lost my Innocence,
Ended an era.
And yet with all of my power,
Difference is still not contentment.
I have no one.
I want to be reinforced,
Reassured
Rediscovered
Loved.
-Nov. 9th, 2002 12.27AM
