Echoes of Hate

A poem I wrote shortly after realising I wasn't straight. This was written at 3am based on my observations, experiences and expectations.

As I sit in front of my grandfather,

he tells me he’d rather I was in jail

than with a girl.

 

But aren’t they the same thing?

Either way,

not entirely free.

 

His words are repeated

in the echoes of my parents' beliefs,

not quite as brash

but the message is the same.

 

Not okay to be gay.

 

I hear my friends speak

their words more naïve.

They claim to accept

but their disgust is the same.

 

They point their fingers

yet never take the blame.

Messages flashing.

 

Not okay to be gay.

Not okay to be gay.

Not okay to be gay.

 

The words hurt

but I can’t help but think,

that they become truer

every time repeated in the mirror.

 

Self hate mantra,

recited like a criminal's insistence

that they're innocent.

  

They may have built the walls of my cell.

But I'm the one who locked the door.

I'm the one who threw away the key.

I'm the one who's not okay being me.  

 

Can’t apologise

for my mistake,

when my mistake

feels right.

 

Can’t apologise to you.

But can't forgive myself.

 

Can't say the words,

can't make them real.

 

Can't tell my grandfather,

that I’m stuck in prison regardless.

That tolerance is liberation

but persecution is my fate.

 

Can't tell my parents

that I've let them down.

 

Can't tell my friends,

that I’m the one they hate.

 

Can't tell myself,

the truth

I feel inside.

 

Can't write it down.

Can’t say it aloud.

Even in my thoughts,

I can’t be proud.

Author's Note

I would love to get some feedback. This is probably my most personal poem to date so I have definitely overlooked some grammar.