Pride is the color of streaks in the sky after rain,
It's the color of pink and blue when together they are lain,
Blended together into purple,
This is my flag,
Don't ask if I've not been with the right guy,
And please don't call gay men fags.
And no we are not proud of our sexuality,
We were born with that we didn't earn it,
We have no right to be proud of it,
We are proud that we can practice it openly,
We are proud that after a long time of fighting,
We are rarely murdered for something we have no control over.
Jane / poems
YOU ARE READING
Sad Poetry
PoetryMy only escape is through my writing. Welcome to my world ~ It's not very pretty, but I hope it makes you feel something. *Cover credit; Kaylannette
