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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · LGBTQ+ · #311719
My mother, the truth seeker and overreacter.
You ask your intruding questions
With a gleam of hope apparent in the eyes
They tell me what you're thinking
That it's me you secretly despise

The suspicion that I might be different
Is almost too much for you to bear
But still you grill me for information
Claiming it's because you care

Fear is dripping from the words
You use to pry into my life
They cut deep into my flesh
Like incisions from a knife

Question after question
You manage to rapid fire
I've got no choice but to tell the truth
I'm not a very good liar

So when I answer with all nods
It's to the ground you fall
Clutching your heart at the knowledge
That your daughter isn't straight after all
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