I sit on a couch
Curled up in a ball crying
While sitting inside my therapists officeFor once it wasn't because of my crappy week
Or because I have something terrible chasing me in my dreams
No it's because my dad is sitting on the chair across from me
Staring at my therapist
Because she just told him I was aceAnd right then and there, it was like a moment of relief
He didn't seem to care he said he still loved me,
I thought everything was fineA few months go by
My life had developed into some twisted version of hell
My father that was so "accepting" seemed to find my sexuality as a product I couldn't seem to sell
To him I was a "phase" "just something I'll grow out of"
How could I learn to love myself if I was like the pair of pants I just got rid of because they no longer fit,Despite what you think I didn't just want to throw away some pants,
I wanted to throw away my cover
I was tired of dealing with the painI wanted to throw away those pronouns,
And the name that was so ill fitting
I want finally introduce myself as who I really was
And For the first time life would be different
"Hi, my name is Cas."And when that time came, it was a moment of relief
But it's only a moment,
I know it never lasts
Because the person that I actually am is just shattered broken glass,
I can clean it up and hide it from my father,
But that won't stop it from hurting me when I pretend it's not thereIn a few more years I'll be leaving for something else
Somewhere I can leave this life behind
Stop being someone else
I can live my life for who I am
And not worry about the punishmentOne day I hope my gender and sexuality won't make me dodge anymore punches
No more pain for who I am
No more being told that it's "just a phase" and "I will grow out of it"
I am not "just" anything
And if you can't accept that and I am forced keep living life as just Her,
As Shelby, My father's prized prisonerAs anything other than Me
That I guess I'd rather be "just" dead
One day I won't be living like this
My poem will only hold memories of the hell im trying to pull myself out of
Then it will not be a moment of relief,
But a life, of peace
YOU ARE READING
Collection Of Depressing Poems I Wrote At Late Hours Of The Night
PoetryA collection of poems I have written, most are depressing