Marked.

Published October 7, 2014 by Shreya Rajvanshi

Pink is my favourite colour,
For it shouts “Insanity and Crazy”,
For it gives a smooth cuddle to my skin.
Yet, people mock me.

Eye liners give my eyes a smoky look,
Highlight them in all the right places,
Make me look beautiful.
Yet, I’m always judged.

Shopping makes me feel like a bird,
They help me dress up beautifully,
They paint my dullness.
Yet, I’m stared at rudely.

I like boys. They understand me,
They know me, feel me,
Play around, tease around.
Yet, everyone laughs.

Yesterday only I kissed a man,
He felt so sweet, true and real,
Ironically, way too real to be true.
But I know, it was sincere.

As much as I love being like this,
I can’t help feeling suffocated,
Shackled, tamed and marked.
All because I’m “branded‘.

I’m called “Gay“, a “coward“,
A “stain” on the white cloth,
Diseased“, “polluted“,
A…eunuch.

God, it hurts. It hurts so much.
It feels disgusting,
It feels impure,
And yet so clean.

Yes, I’m a boy
And a man,
And a human.
I can love and be loved.

Yes, I’m a boy
And I’m in love with another boy.
Is it so wrong, is it so bad?
But then why do I feel good?

Yes, I’m a boy.
I’ll continue loving my lover.
We may be looked down upon at,
But well, so what?

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