Intricate perfection, like crisp
white sheets, ironed with experience,
and flattened out with knowing hands.
the sin-stained and very,
used and frayed
cleaner than the floors.
The john, in the corner praying-
He doesn’t know yet, what for;
All he knows is he wants to forget
her face, and the regret.
for all that will still
A petri dish of diseased lies,
alive and well, with stories of hell
to share with the children before bed.
A reminder that when we must all be the same
to avoid the blackening shame
that will come
if we dare
Speak this way. Dress this way.
Smile this way. Laugh like this.
Colour with in these lines. Love everyone;
just not them.
Tuck your true self away child,
it is not the right shade
You can’t be gay dear,
that kind of love is an abomination.