Survival

I don’t know if my mom loves me anymore

She says that I am changing, I am not what she bargained for

I set fire to abusers like a war, I am a terror

but I don’t know what it is I fight for

 

I cure the pores of my skin I leave no room for anything

I survive because I have died

Just to keep my head afloat and my body unprovoked

I set up walls but make sure to include windows

And I cure the pores of my skin I leave no room for anything

I survive because I have died

And maybe in a year, I will learn to love the fear

And maybe in a year, I will not feel like a bad queer