The Wake

I flick my wrist when I talk to the girls
I consciously control it when I’m around my father

I drink pastel liquids
And prance when overjoyed

I cry at sad movies

I cried when brazen hands pummeled my flesh
Soul left body

I groaned when they shoved me
I begged when I saw cold metal
Your phallus of unequivocal madness

Profane blood splattered words
Capped acceptance
Topped off insecurities
Societal wash

You pierced my flesh
Trying to bleed out perceived abnormalities

My spirit will haunt you
As I prance on your graves