wILD CHILD

They always ask,
Wild child with a wild heart,
why are you not more agreeable?

What a wild child, they say,
you need to think before you speak,
always pray before you eat.

Your wild heart will get you hurt,
They say, send you straight to hell,
They say, let’s bring you back to redemption.

I pray for your soul, child, even your wild heart,
They tell me, like a big overstuffed gift they’ve given,
wrapped in sparkly, gold foil but completely empty inside.

Their wishes and proclamations are all just cardboard,
I tell myself. Cheap, thin but only forced-together paper,
Like their imitations of sincerity and grace.

My wild queer heart is good on its own,
I keep telling them. Keep your empty words to yourself,
I tell them, this wild child of yours ain’t listening anymore.

Send me straight to hell, or not,
Love me fully, or not,
I tell them, this wild child is here to stay.