The little infant that was dabbled in baby’s oil,
Baby boy babbled and played boys,
Danced in the hub of homo gender, whose got a straight line reproductive set on;
The opposite sex was our fantasy to watch on:
The mind couldn’t paint the image of homosexuality than it already had on,
As expunged it as though it was some brutality to mankind than it already was.
A soul so bitter yet homophobic,
Eschewed such repulsive genetic impulses,
For the angelic angels did term it retarded;
Disreputed anyone who drank of this bony milk,
For the soul couldn’t fathom the inexplicable consummation of bone with bone.
What if I used to have my dildo in between scruffy fingers to be rubbed?
What if the foamy backyard of my body used to be hand spanked?
What if I never really use to eschew the homophobic traits – in a bid to have same species perform their angelic wanton thoughts?
What if I considered those with libia majora as been deplorable and intangible,
Very unnecessary for an institutional entangle;
What if I preferred getting a sore hard back 3x a week?
What if I am a hypocrite unwilling to face the truth?
What if my truth was not much of a truth,
What if I Was GAY?