On World Suicide Prevention Day
These targets on my back are weighing me down:
Biphobia/Fatphobia/Racism/Ableism
“Wait your turn!” Says the well-meaning activist
“Why are you so angry?” Says the self-proclaimed ally.
“My back hurts,” I respond. “I need help.”
My body is covered in bruises
From people touching me with barge poles:
“I’ve always liked fat girls/black girls/bisexual girls,” says the fetish guy.
“I don’t like holding hands/acknowledging you/kissing you in public,” he says later.
“I’m lonely,” I respond. “I need help.”
I find a home at the bottom of a barrel:
“If you only lost some weight/wore a wig/lightened your skin,” says the media
“Don’t make this about race,” says the bigot
“Bisexuality is a cop out!” Screams the lesbians and gays at Pride.
“My world is full of hatred,” I respond. “I need help.”
World Suicide Prevention Day comes around:
“Reach out and talk to someone,” says the Prime Minister
“Call this helpline that doesn’t know how to talk to blacks/bisexuals/old people”
Says the clueless straight white folks
“This life is too painful,” I respond. “I just want it to stop.”
Written in Shadows 