The prison

I don’t belong here, not really.

This place is not for me.

I yearn for a different reality, one suited for one such as me.

A place of freedom

Freedom to live as I choose.

Free of the yoke of expectations and conformity.

Less, I am satisfied with hiding from the world my true desires.

My true to me self.

But as in all things, where it concerns me, I don’t fit.

I don’t fit the mold cast by a society of little tolerance, their strict borders of what is right and what is somehow wrong.

Long ago, I tried to fit. I tried to conform. Squeezing myself into a shape unrecognizable to me.

Playing a part made not for me.

Inwardly I rebelled, the shell I wore hiding the turmoil churning beneath.

Some societies would see me dead, using their manmade religion to justify their ignorant, hateful, actions.

What small minded people.

So I live in a cage of my design, my construction.

Forever playing a role that is a lie.