Danced on a dance floor numbed and afraid, friends and lovers vanishing as I wait for the music to change.
Assaulted and insulted, I have shouted my rage to the moon and wept solitary in my room. The child born of scorn, tearing away at the words that would try to define me.
On Sunday I can marry and on Monday be dismissed from my job and kicked from my home.
From a yellow brick road, I have stumbled and fallen and ridden the shoulders of every one that paved the way.
For every stone that has been thrown with aim, for every tortured cry, behind every prison bar, from every last-picked humiliated child,
..I remain
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