Send Message to AbrahamLincoln
That’s so gay.
That's so gay.
The swaying of your hips,
the way you move your lips.
That's so gay.
The way you dress,
the way you’ll never confess.
That's just so gay,
the way that you talk,
the way you walk.
The way someone shoves
you in a headlock,
shattering your skull with
the laughing brick of
conformity.
As your crimson tears,
and helpless screams,
are silenced in the gleaming
stench of burning flesh
and gasoline.
That's... so… gay.
Homophobic slurs first plagued
my mind in third grade:
I pledge allegiance, to the flag,
that Michael Jackson is a fag...
Who can wheeze scream and gag,
like some filthy drag.
Tortured by laws and encased
in homophobic walls.
Imprisoned in one nation,
under god,
unchangeable,
with liberty and justice
for all white straight male Americans.
Do you have any idea
what you do when you say:
That's so gay.
While fags slash
their wrists and scream,
they're muted by
your dividing wall.
Built from hate and lies,
held to together with
the mortar of suicide.
While the leaking crimson tears,
from fags and queers,
streak and stain the wall.
It creates a mural for
our theocracy's laws.
Built upon the tombs and stones
of those who died in disguise.
Choking on the poisonous
black plumes from
your perfect society.
Disintegrating in the
venom seeping from
your toxic tongues.
Crumpling into flittering ashes,
and devoured by
the seething gas of
first class citizens.
Sticks and stones will break my bones,
but words will destroy my soul.
Leaving me a worthless hole,
waiting for my dirges to toll.
When the clock strikes twelve,
I'll free myself from this ungodly hell,
while dying in land of the free,
that excludes me.
I don't want to fight,
for what I know is right.
To convince some majority
to grant me my individuality.
I can't want to feel
what it is like,
to be free.
While being me.