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Society and I

When pride ends, so does my relevance

By Alastor GeorgePublished 4 years ago 2 min read
Drawn by the poet, refrence images for eye shape and colour pallete were found on tumblr.

I was lucky enough to be born into money

Raised with vinegar, not festering honey

Brought up with a lack of false piety

Expecting only a void awaiting me

When the faerie lights fade

And so ends another day

I am left in my living room

Assuming my new place

When the rainbows leave the shelves

I start searching for myself

Searching how to deal

Remembering how I’ve dealt

I know I’m not that great

But something needs to change

I want more than just a name

Written on my grave

Markets crashed in twenty-eleven

I came into the world in two thousand seven

Born in god’s country, without hope of heaven

Lethargically searching for eager expression….

I’ve mingled with swells and paupers

I’ve rebelled against teachers and fathers

Despite watchers and blockers and mockers

I know that I’ll be my own author

Life is not without its struggles

And sometimes I’m forced to buckle

Under these sisyphean puzzles

Under the weight of pointless troubles.

But respite can be found

And I want to make a sound

Create something profound

Before I end up in the ground

Forever slow-dancing alone

In the discomfort of my own home–

Is this cursed fluorescent light

All I’ll ever know?

Perhaps I’ll break the illusion

Perhaps I’ll find some solution

Maybe with tears next year

I’ll finally feel effusive

Perhaps next Pride

Won’t end with July

We’ll be recognised

We won’t need to hide

I am left longing for a season that can’t be obtained

Yearning for a year without the constraints

Aching for my community again

For my queer umbrella to block out the rain

Wishful thinking

won’t ease the loneliness

When those who understand me

Fade into the abyss

Acclimating to the

“normal way of life”

Which I can’t get ahold of

No matter how hard I try.

I am but one among many

Continuation of monotony

Society and I

That is our dichotomy

It’s exhausting

Always taunting

A new box every month…

Its daunting

Constantly shifting

To find what’s missing

When support is revoked

I’m viewed as twisted

Society and I

Building castles in the sky

Only to be torn down

At the end of Pride

Fragments in my mind

A broken mirror’s all I find

Pieces of an identity

Labels I’ve assigned

I understand My body

I say my mind too

I dream that someday

The latter may be true

Society and I

Just to stay alive

I cater to their whims

That’s my sacrifice.

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