TW: Violence and language.

Just the other night I heard a native dude got capped, white nationalist on the other end, but nobody heard much after that. No news, no cops, no justice no peace, and people wonder why we are calling to defund the police. Come to find out that dude had drugs, it was a meth deal gone bad.

Ain't need to worry about it son, just ignore it and move on...

Hold the fucking phone, why does it matter? You tellin’ me that dudes life ain't worth the crime blotter, an obit or some sort of after the fact reaction?

But he had drugs man, shit happens...

^{Man I hear this shit from privileged folk all the time but to hear it come from the streets...} This dude didn’t matter because he had a problem, this human deduced to drugs and addiction, no longer my problem. I would say he’s just now a statistic but I’m not even sure if he’s that. This town is god damn silent on injustices and violent crime at that. 4 stabbings and 1 shooting, stuff that stokes fear, nobody goes near. Meanwhile all the townsfolk just cry about the homeless problem and drink their bougie beer.

Dude you need to settle down you didn’t even know him…

Motherfucker don’t tell me to settle down, don’t tell me it don’t matter because I didn’t even know him. How many white kids get shot in schools every day to get their obit, their memorial, their presidential postmortem? How about the victims in the towers? We went to fucking war over that shit, why did they matter? How can all lives matter when this dude over here lying on a slab can’t seem to become any sort of subject matter?

Man that’s just how it is…

No shut the fuck up, that’s not how it is. I refuse to accept an existence in this world where a life ain't worth the bullet that ended it. Don’t hide behind your cynicism and whataboutism because you just can’t be arsed to offer up any sort of emotional reactionism. That dude...

Dude…

No, you listen to me while I remind you what the hell humanity and empathy are. That dude had a family and friends, just like you, he had a life and a history and so much ahead of him too. He had ninety nine point nine percent the same genes as you yet you can’t seem to empathize that that could have been you.

Dude then go fucking do something.

So we have all these people, and they all seem to be pissed.

So many people and they all seem to have... something amiss.

Many of these people, their concerns are just... entirely dismissed:

By other people with the same problems who somehow look at these perfectly normal people and react: "I have been nixed!"

These problems are pervasive in our memories and experiences and on a metaphorical wall they are fixed;

And yet the root causes are consistently misinterpreted, and ultimately missed.

And the result is we are betting everything for the sake of getting our cathartic and revengeful fix?

That is being delivered to us by people that if they were to meet us, would utterly reject us and loudly hiss?

And if that gamble fails I will be the one to pick up the scraps, and mop up the piss?

Man, I didn't want to grow up to this.

I'm working on this for a poetry class I'm taking, any criticism is welcome.

Edit: Italicized some text I forgot when I copied it out of Word.
Edit 2: Fixed some phrasing.

Coming Out 2.0

When I first came out
I thought it was over.
Done.
I know myself now,
My life can finally be
worthwhile and fun.

But there was always a mess I dared
not touch. Who do I like? What gaze
makes me blush? I suspected the feminine
but held out hope – only taking up one letter
made it easier to cope.

And some people do change after starting
HRT, so patiently I hoped men would appeal
to me. I had some feelings before, it seemed reasonable
they would grow. But as time went on I realized I had
nothing to show. My feelings for men were entirely gone,
but still hopeful for a straight-passing future, I pressed on.

I had definite feelings for women before,
But at times the attraction seemed a bit more –
Did I want to be them or did I want to be with them?
The former I assumed, as it helped to distract,
focus on my work, brush my desires under the mat.

I’d think “She looks cute”, but “in that outfit”, “with that hairdo” and other qualifiers
I began to append, convincing myself what I felt was normal and, like a
Chicagoland road, no bend. When I began to notice some feelings bubbling up I said
“Female friendships are close, it’s nothing, the end.” But try as I might, they flowered
and bloomed, and soon I could not help but be all-consumed. Maybe I’m bi, I thought,
That isn’t so bad. More options for dating, how can I be mad? I told my friend my feelings, and as
expected, for me she had none. She’s still one of my best friends, so I’d neither lost nor won.

I dealt with the rejection and moved on. I could still be bi, better not
jump the gun. You can’t take back coming out, you’ve got one shot – nail it
and be done. I thought everything would be the same, but the floodgates were open,
my restraints had been broken. I could finally be honest about my feelings
for women (endless, confusing and interwoven) and for men, which were at most
an appreciative token.

A week after confessing to my crush, it was obvious
who won. The Sapphic feelings and desires made
their presence known, their intent to stay,
and more difficult than coming out
as trans was admitting
to being gay.