Choices that have been made,
that led up to this,
I’ll regret never fully but will recognize it.

Blood to shed,
wasn’t what I wanted to do,
but no would listen . . .
listen to reason.

What I am, what I like,
what I want to be,
will never change.

Those who drove me to this should have . . .
just back off.

Understand I’ll never be the picture true as others,
want me to be.

Why couldn’t anyone understand that,
what is the trigger is not choice,
it is up-bring.

But yet the main triggers,
adults and kids so close to my age think what a trigger is.

What one sees as comfort,
is a sign of weakness.

How one act is seen as a devil queer,
because it doesn’t match up to the status mark?

Because one is different,
others will try to mold them into something,
that can be controlled and less of problem to deal with.

Taking away the trigger,
but the gun is still loaded,
when it time to shoot,
it will only be blanks,
but the shot doesn’t make the sound of the bang;
will echo enough just as before.

It drove me to this,
the threats of being different didn’t change,
they still remain,
for I was the wearer of the trigger,
for that the battle is far from over.

The trigger,
they spoke of is gone,
but why do they still come at me.

Because they can,
with trouble of breaking me,
even if I speak out about it . . .
it will only fall on deaf ears.

No one is a saint,
nor a sinner,
but if not watch carefully,
the damn of emotions will break,
and blood will fall.

Of one or many,
they will happen,
because the lack of being listen to could have stop of what the aftermath could have been.

But because the sight of differences of others,
divides so many . . .
who is there to trust?

When everyone that was tried to talk to,
gave only silence in return, and maybe said,
what has become to one,
is just a step in life and will grow out of it.

But what if it wasn’t?

What if the lives that dressed up as different genders,
liked different things compare to others,
who did different things,
they never grew out of it,
was that never a thought to think upon?

I have meant so many people who were different,
in later,
took different steps as well,
in meaning of dealing with their oh-so called problems.

What I have lost,
tried to saved and couldn’t because it wasn’t enough,
that I bare as my fault,
only for it wasn’t my voice they wanted to hear.

If I was the parents of an only child who loved another or both genders,
still be here if I didn’t kick the kid out,
leaving for the world do as they pleased to the child,
and maybe leaving this world,
wouldn’t have been that final step.

If I was the teacher that saw a kid who liked out of norm things,
that wasn’t the same gender,
would stop those who jab at the child,
wouldn’t dare hanged oneself in the closet?

If I was the person,
that didn’t go so far,
into tricking one’s heart . . .
would that gun never left the storage room?

If I was . . .
but not,
I am a voice to give and an ear to listen,
but maybe,
just maybe not what they wanted.

Call them pansies,
weaklings,
fags,
stupid,
useless . . .
what does make the person who lack of mind said those words,
not thinking of what could have come?

If those people were gone in some way,
how would those who spoke harshly react . . .
easy enough,
they wouldn’t give a fucking care,
for they won and the problem is no more.

For the trigger is not the person . . .
the target . . .
but the darts thrown at it,
who will always get a pass,
because they fit the status stain of perfection,
all seem dead set on keeping.

A life is gone,
because of simple things,
no one dares tries and looks the other way . . .
mock me if I lie,
but think about it for a moment,
really try and tell me wrong after.

Narrow minds . . .
are maybe the top killer of the time.

And just like guns,
pulling the trigger is easy,
handle the aftermath for truly of it is,
never is . . . put the gun down.

Put it down,
speak out,
say something,
even if it feel like others are not listen . . .
just one person is enough to lean,
to help lessen the blows.

It may not matter for what I say for one’s life,
that thinks it’s a waste of space but should matter on what oneself thinks.

If you over think it,
the meaning is gone and so a life.

Put the trigger down,
for the person aiming is the problem,
not the target that made the other pull it.

Just put it down,
the only good the trigger shows,
is that the person holding the gun to kill,
is just another asshole,
wanting to world clean of the unwanted odds that breath just alike they do.

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