I am the girl kicked out of her home because I confided in my mother that I am a lesbian.

I am the prostitute working the streets because nobody will hire a transsexual woman.

I am the sister who holds her gay brother tight through the painful, tear-filled nights.

We are the parents who buried our daughter long before her time.

I am the man who died alone in the hospital because they would not let my partner of twenty-seven years into the room.

I am the foster child who wakes up with nightmares of being taken away from the two fathers who are the only loving family I have ever had. I wish they could adopt me.

I am one of the lucky ones, I guess. I survived the attack that left me in a coma for three weeks, and in another year I will probably be able to walk again.

I am not one of the lucky ones. I killed myself just weeks before graduating high school. It was simply too much to bear.

We are the couple who had the realtor hang up on us when she found out we wanted to rent a one-bedroom for two men.

I am the person who never knows which bathroom I should use if I want to avoid getting the management called on me.

I am the mother who is not allowed to even visit the children I bore, nursed, and raised. The court says I am an unfit mother because I now live with another woman.

I am the domestic-violence survivor who found the support system grow suddenly cold and distant when they found out my abusive partner is also a woman.

I am the domestic-violence survivor who has no support system to turn to because I am male.

I am the father who has never hugged his son because I grew up afraid to show affection to other men.

I am the home-economics teacher who always wanted to teach gym until someone told me that only lesbians do that.

I am the man who died when the paramedics stopped treating me as soon as they realized I was transsexual.

I am the person who feels guilty because I think I could be a much better person if I didn’t have to always deal with society hating me.

I am the man who stopped attending church, not because I don't believe, but because they closed their doors to my kind.

I am the person who has to hide what this world needs most, love.

Repost this if you believe homophobia is wrong

Copy and paste this poem in your profiles if you are against child abuse:

My name is Sarah

I am but three,

My eyes are swollen

I cannot see,

I must be stupid I must be bad,

What else could have made

My daddy so mad?

I wish I were better

I wish I weren't ugly,

Then maybe my mommy

Would still want to hug me.

I can't speak at all I can't do a wrong

Or else I'm locked up

All the day long

When I awake I'm all alone

The house is dark

My folks aren't home.

When my mommy does come

I'll try and be nice,

So maybe I'll get just

One whipping tonight

Don't make a sound!

I just heard a car

My daddy is back

From Charlie's Bar.

I hear him curse

My name he calls

I press myself

Against the wall.

I try and hide

From his evil eyes

I'm so afraid now

I'm starting to cry.

He finds me weeping

He shouts ugly words,

He says its my fault

That he suffers at work.

He slaps me and hits me

And yells at me more,

I finally get free

And I run for the door.

He's already locked it

And I start to bawl,

He takes me and throws me

Against the hard wall.

I fall to the floor

With my bones nearly broken,

And my daddy continues

With more bad words spoken.

"I'm sorry!", I scream

But its now much too late

His face has been twisted

Into unimaginable hate.

The hurt and the pain

Again and again

Oh please God, have mercy!

Oh please let it end!

And he finally stops

And heads for the door,

While I lay there motionless

Sprawled on the floor.

My name is Sarah

And I am but three,

Tonight my daddy,

Murdered me.