I wrote a new piece that I will share with my students in the “Conscious Poetry” class that I am teaching next week. Anytime that I write, I have to place myself in an emotion or time period to truly evoke every feeling that I feel like I should feel or did feel during that moment. When I woke up (at 2:20am) this morning, I was inspired to write about when I was twelve years old. I was in the 7th grade and I was sad. That year was the beginning of my very lengthy depression. I really had to place my mind back in that era to write this and I cried and cried as I wrote it. This is really a reflection piece. My viewpoints of God and my parents have drastically changed since that age and this by no way depicts how either of them feel about me in the present. Any, if any twelve year old happens to read this who is struggling with sexuality or identity, please realize that God loves you and that you should love yourself. Be who you are. Without further adieu.
Memories of 12
by: Justin J White
Twelve was when I realized that I was “different.”
I was at that age of manhood.
No longer a boy anymore.
No longer tied to the hip of my mother no more.
I was a man.
And with that came the feelings of being a man.
Confused feelings at that.
I was caught between two worlds of this and that.
I was told to like girls, but I had feelings for boys.
Can’t let mama find out, Cuz it would break her heart.
Can’t let mama find out, got to keep her in the dark.
I was suffering in silence.
How can God create me, but I know He hates me.
For everything I am on the inside.
For loving what I was taught to hate, but how is that right?
Gotta keep this shit to myself!
Gotta bottle up these feelings and put em on a shelf.
Can’t break my mothers heart.
Can’t go around being a faggot, Cuz my daddy ain’t raise me like that.
He raised three men.
He raised three sons and I refuse to be the one to let him down.
I refuse to be the one to disappoint.
So imma put these feelings on the shelf.
Imma hide who I am and not be myself.
I’m gone pretend.
Yea… Imma get a girlfriend and pretend.
That everything is alright within.
That everything is all good Cuz I can’t live in sin.
Can’t die and go to hell.
Can’t let my family down.
Hell, I’m a man!
And my daddy didn’t raise me to like boys.
So, imma suffer in silence.
Imma bottle up my feelings and put them on a shelf.
Cuz I’m a man.