I wanted to "help" you.

I took you to church so they can save you.

I made you read bible verses over and over.

I've been humiliated, disappointed, and ashamed by you.

Growing up, I knew you were different. 

Seeing your face light up, when we played with dolls, dress up, and did each other's makeup.

Seeing your face distraught, when you got teased for hanging out with me, beated on for wanting to express yourself, for being who you really are.

When we started high school, you felt my love for you get weak, shifted, and temporary.

You stopped coming around.

You skipped lunch.

Hide in the locker room before gym class.

You stopped being yourself.

We argued more, because I wasn't there for you. We argued more, because I started to treat you like the others. We argued more, becuase I tried to

remodle you.

Until you found one thing by changing yourself...was ending your life.

I blamed myself, I cried many nights, and I felt like dying.

After your passing, I pledge to fight for you.

I started to speak up for the voiceless.

I stopped judging, "helping", and being like everyone else that don't understand. 

I opened my eyes and heart, not listening to others or verses.

You never were different. You were unique.