They Call it a Choice

I hear “Fag! Queer! Disgusting piece of shit!
I hope you die, with the rest of your kind” as I am hit
Not the first time, certainly not the worst
But it still hurts just as much as the first

But the worst of my rage, comes not from their voice
But from the fucking idiots who call this a choice
Whether from the hypocrites who say it God’s test
Or from the hick-spawn, who’ve learned from their nest

The audacity required to say one would choose
To be frowned upon, ridiculed, alone and abused
They call it a choice to be beat to the ground
They call it a choice to feel as if your hell bound

They call it a choice to loathe your deepest desires
They call it a choice to be disgusted by your sires
A choice to feel as an abomination to what is right
A choice to have to search in vain for the light

Can they know how much I tried to refrain?
From thinking thoughts that led to such pain
And from giving in to an undeniable sin
In the form of love, which I can never win

Perhaps not, although that’s still no excuse
To treat fellow man with such abuse
Ignorance can only be a selfish bliss
One that I will help you all dismiss

By telling to all who think it’s a choice
To be hated and to be robbed of your voice
That a choice is something that someone would choose
And no one would choose this, with so much to lose

As there is nowhere else I can possibly turn
I'll run freely to hell, where my soul will burn
By making the only choice I still own
To end the life I would have spent alone