Tear the Pages

What are you supposed to do when your beliefs are antithetical to who you are?

What are you supposed to do when your moral code disregards your kind?

What are you supposed to do when no one can help but think “what went wrong with him?”

Hide?

Cower?

Arms as walls before the fortress of your skin.

Eyes as moats, filled with salt from within.

This constant guilt, like you’re always doing something wrong for being who you are.

No one wants to go to Hell.