They kiss me

and touch me

but who

wants to keep me.

The girls who kiss me

write me off

as a thief in the night,

the boys who touch me

brand me

as one of those type.

They bend you,

want to break you,

remake you.

Find the label

they use to rape you

- almost as bad

as the physical;

though, I've had both.

Can live

to tell the tale:

Both sides will hurt you,

but that's how

love goes,

in the stories they write.

You feel invisible

cut out, cut off.

Highly visible,

hide you away

until they explain you away.

Change the ending,

change the time.

Do you blame them

or is it yourself?

They shame you away.

You bleed to scream,

shatter the silence,

paint the wall

and leave your mark.

And all you're doing

is living,

is being

just like everyone else.

Why is it different,

why must you fear,

the same blood pumps

through your veins

as theirs.

We're the same in difference,

the same indifference.