Human: Or Do LGBTQ People Still Count as Such?

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Photo by Mark Brecic via Unsplash

A revised free-verse poem turned lamentation

All you see are flaws — 
Too many to count
Too difficult to name.

They greet me in the morning;
Say, “Hey, how are you managing?
How can you become US?”
US always has it together. 
They’re related to They.
They know everything.
And if you’re not with
US, you’re against Them.

Human used to be the creature
Who remembered there
Existed love amongst everything.
Love and touch and holding 
One’s hand was more important.
Not some digital image
Concocted on a canvas made
Of lies.

It yearns for sustenance
Buried deep in
Soiled forests but
Will not take the time
To harvest.

Woe to the
Breathing being who is looking
For approval in
Sweaty bed linen
And overpriced vehicles,
They will wither and turn
Into figments of their imagination.

Gifted tongues ululate
At crescent moons, surely
Their voices will
go unheard.

Human is the creature
Who smiles in your face
And sharpens a knife
Behind your back.

It is unprepared for
Danger and never has a plan.

It turns against its brothers 
And sisters and people who
Just want to be loved instead
Of othered.

I bow, this species so thick
On my skin, 
Washing it off would
Be suicide, however, isn’t
That what US wants?

The previous version can be found here. Thank you for reading. Published in Prism & Pen via Medium.

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