There was no religion in my home.
No god to look down on me,
No need to repent my sins.
I had no reason to feel guilt over being this way.
There were no overbearing crosses,
No Sunday masses,
Just Baphomet on my father's shirt,
and our black cat, aptly named Lucifer.
I was never pressured into religion,
I was told to pursue what I wanted.
If everything I wanted was wrong,
then I shouldn't believe in a god filled with hate.
Coming out wasn't very painful,
at least, not because of religion.
My dad laughed at me,
said I was confused and stupid
Satan didn't tell him to think that way.
Contrary to popular belief, Satan isn't even real.
My dad was just filled with hate,
just like the god I didn't pursue.
But, I'd be lying if I said I never thought about it.
I prayed to stop my dad,
from hurting me or my mom,
but those prayers never came true.
Why would they?
I was just a little girl, I wasn't special.
But, I was smart enough to know that God wasn't real.
If He were, maybe I wouldn't be a gay teenage boy.
Maybe, He could've saved me.
I'll never know.