The Pin – A poem about sexuality

It’s that confused look in your eyes

That gets me

When I say I don’t like girls; I like guys

And when you accept it, a few minutes late,

You ask

Have you dated?

And when I say no, I feel berated

It’s not like the love I want isn’t the same

But the love I want isn’t as plain

And while acceptance pours in for you like a river

I see headlines on the daily that make me shiver

Because your people are on the tabloids, the news, and on ads

Whereas the love I want is stereotyped or seen as a fad

You ask me why I’m so reluctant to put myself out

And it’s because every time I do I feel like I need to shout

It’s been the shedding of tears, the passing of years

And up until recently, I couldn’t fully accept being queer

It’s the way that the love I want is treated

And the fact that many could do with it being deleted

It’s the protests against it and the violence I can’t dismiss

It’s the mockery, the taunting, and taking the p*ss

It’s the fact that my sexuality

Is somehow the only reflection of my individuality

To those who just can’t look past

The phobias and ideas that contrast

It’s the stereotypes, the associations;

It’s the accusation of disease and the patronisation

It’s the lack of recognition;

It’s the fact that it’s seen as being deficient

And as far and as far as I try to stretch away,

I’m always within miles of that one person who tells me the love I want isn’t okay

It’s not as if I don’t want a relationship;

It’s something I yearn for

But the negativity, laid before my me,

Makes me want to stay put on the floor

Because having to explain myself, my reluctance, my identity

Is a massive chore

Sometimes there’s hope and you see a relationship, a movement that inspires

But as soon as you scroll to the comments section

Those feelings of positivity begin to transpire

To despair

To anguish

To feeling as if you have to gasp for air

And then you hate on the culture

The way being oppressed makes everyone obsessed

With colour

With weight

With image

With style

With judging everyone so harshly and making them feel vile

You see the problems inherent so blatantly within

And your patience begins to run thin

You begin to think that the phobia is justified

But deep down you realise that everyone’s simply terrified

They’re fully insecure with thoughts impure

Unable to let past fear mature

And you realise, slowly, that you are too –

That you’ve also criticised and judged others for what wasn’t really true

It’s a sticky situation, a Catch-22, and every paranoid thought that enters you brain

Is letting it stew

You’re letting the fear, the mindset win

You’re being tacked down with nothing but a simple, homophobic pin

I’ll find the love I want; I won’t give in

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