I admire your words,
you let them grow ripe,
pluck them when ready,
let them fester in silence,
I despise them.
You dismiss me as young,
because you can patronise me,
because when you said The Monkees, I thought Arctic Monkeys,
because I’ll never submit to your archaic ways,
you loathe me for having opinions that aren’t yours.
You call me faggot,
because I want to get married,
because I don’t want your cure,
because I’m going to hell,
you can’t stand my pride.
You spit vitriol, call me lazy,
because numbness creeps through my bones,
because I wasn’t lying,
because I tore my skin to rip depression out,
I won that fight without you.
I admired your words,
you let them grow ripe,
plucked them when ready,
let them fester in silence,
I’ve grown deaf to you.
