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We were born into this world,

learned the meaning of hate
before we heard the word 'gay',
'faggot' boxed our ears before
'homosexual' ever could.

We were placed in our pink and
blue baby suits, tucked into our
race car and flower bedsheets -

    Congratulations, it's a girl.
    Congratulations, it's a dyke.

I remember that night, my mother's
eyes frozen in fear at her
    'just confused'
daughter, that needed a ride to a date,

her daughter, who (she thought)
would be scorned by peers
never hold public office
never get into a good college
not be allowed to any more sleepovers
with all her old friends -

She looked at me like I'd just cut out my ovaries
and dangled them in front of her face.

No parent wants to see their
child encounter adversity,

but the most deafening sound
is silence -

can you hear the pin drop,

can you hear them yell
faggot,

can you hear the officer's
discharge,

can you hear the water swallow
his body whole,

can you hear the sound
of Mrs. Shepard's sobs
when she saw the photos
from the crime scene -

there are crimes you can't wash clean.

Try and pray away what you will
but you can't pray away pain

and that holy water dripping from
your lips is thinner than the blood
that dripped from his -

perhaps you weren't the one to
crucify him upon that fence

but did you help build those hands
that did?
Okay, so, the formatting got a little messed up on blogspot, so I'm just posting this here.

My other NaPoWriMo poetry is at
[link]
so watch me if you want to see more. I'll only be posting a few of mine on dA.

Anyway, this poem isn't exactly what I intended. It's very disjointed and angry and so, I'll fix it another time.
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April 7, 2011
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