Dear Journal:

Found this nifty little poem. I thought you'd like it.

Oh queer it’s time you pay for being a queer.

I’m sorry but the price for being a queer is blood, your blood.

You fooled and you surprised him.

Made that dirty fagot pay, yeah you’re a real man.

Keep telling your selves that and maybe one day you’ll believe it.

You made him pay; you made him bleed.

You crucified him like he was some Jesus.

You say I am a queer.

You say I am a fagot.

You say I am a pussy.

Well I think you’re the queer.

That’s why you hate me.

You see in me what you hate about your self.

You step on the pansy one by one; not caring that they were a living sole you just crushed.

You slaughter the fairies like cow dole.

Poor queer boy; to bad he never had a chance.

You say he was a fag.

You say he was sissy.

You say he was a butt fucker.

You say he was a cocksucker.

You say he was a sinner.

You say he was a queer.

Yes he was; just like you.

Did you ever think about who he was and not what he is?

He was some poor mother’s son.

He was someone’s brother.

Someone’s friend.

But most of all he was a human being.

Queer.