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Whirlwind
(A poem I wrote during a period of time where I was incredibly confused by my own sexuality on a number of levels. The sexuality itself wasn't completely apparent to me. It seemed hidden, distorted, and just as confused as I was. I had gone through a series of titles I had given to myself until I decided to just embrace an idea of this: I simply am. There is not and never will be a need to label my self, because by labeling our selves, we lose a piece of our selves. We lose a piece of individuality. Regardless if we are gay, straight, bisexual, transgendered, sisexual and so on, each term carries in and of itself an implied certainty, and an unknown umbrella. I don't want to be seen with any implied certainty, nor do I want to be an umbrella. I just simply want to be.)
I am a tempest of rage, hate, and self-loathing
A brewing mixture of hypocrisy and guilt
Pulling in those around me
And bringing them in along for the ride
Countless broken promises
Regrets and failures aplenty
Emotionally and romantically complacent
But companions feeling empty
Never letting people in to gaze
Refusing to do the same
Desires are lies and conditions
I fail to accept the reality
And so it falls into central point
A harsh and devestating gravity
I can't step out of my shell because of fear
Not knowing, if the source is even here
Gradual stepping and exploration seems key
Yet it's difficult for people to let me be
It's hard to stick to the plan
When I'm left feeling less than a man
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