I see your disgusted faces,

I hear the names you call me when you believe I'm not there.

The snickers behind your hands.

I read the notes you leave in my locker,

the way you throw my things in the trash or steal them when I leave a room.

The tags on my bag,

the word cocksucker painted on my windshield.

I'm never invited to your parties,

you don't want me at your school functions.

You make me feel unwelcome in a room.

In gym class you'd rather take a rag over me.

And it's all because I'm gay.

All because of my homosexuality,

the sexual preference I can't control.

I'm gay,

this is true.

You never try to befriend me,

and it's all because I'm gay.

Now as I take the knife from the kitchen drawer,

I think of all the hurtful things you've done to me.

I go to my room.

I sit on my floor and spread my favorite things around me.

I take the knife and run it across my wrist,

watching the blood spill onto the white carpet,

staining it forever as you have done my soul.

I feel my life leave,

my body grows cold.

My vision blurs,

and my last thought is:

I hope I'll find peace at last.