You sit and say, “You can’t be that way!”  
Like you are me.  
I cry every day, trying to escape  
a light that you have forced me into.  
 
A cage keeps me locked in this light  
made of your words, accusations, and judgments.  
“I just want the best for you” is your tune,  
but why do you insist on keeping me under your thumb?  
 
Is this love, what you show me?  
I am who I am, and you can’t change that!  
I am who I believe to be!  
Can’t you just accept that!?!  
 
I am a furry!  
I am bisexual!  
Leave me alone!  
I want to be happy!  
 
Please, am I the only one  
who goes through this judgmental crap,  
just to say, “I’m comfortable”?  
My friends stand by me, so why can’t you do the same?  
 
I love you,  
why can’t you love me back?  
Is it because I’m different?  
I’ll change back!  
 
You smile at my words of mercy, and I realize  
I have fallen into your trap.  
You hate me, I think to myself.  
You hate me for who I am.  
 
I run to my room, crying.  
I can’t be free, can never fly away  
from your tyranny and power over me.  
I plan to leave this world forever.  
 
A plan, to escape from the pain and  
various catcalls at school and at home.  
I carry through with it, and grab a rope  
and tie a noose around my neck.  
 
I grab a chair and stand on top, the noose 
scratching my neck.  
I begin to cry again as I prepare to jump,  
anxiously waiting to hear that one last Snap! from my neck.  
 
Only, I realize something.  
What will happen to me after my death?  
Will I become another statistic? Another teenage suicide?  
I think to myself, What am I? Who am I?  
I take the noose off and run to the bathroom,  
and I see myself, free.  
I am talking with my friends, and you aren’t in it.  
I then see my eyes, all bloodshot from crying,  
and my cheeks are still damp from my tears.  
 
I realize that, in that moment,  
I am stronger than you.  
You don’t define me as a person.  
 
I run back to my room and throw my fursuit on  
and grab my bisexual pride flag from the closet,  
and I run downstairs.  
Your faces twist into shock and disgust at what I am doing,  
 
and you say, “What are you doing?!”  
I smile under my head and say, “I AM WHO I AM!!!”  
You run away, crying, ashamed to look at me,  
and all I do is laugh.  
 
I am proud to be a bisexual furry,  
and people like you try and take that way from me.  
But guess what?  
I am stronger than you.  
 
Who am I?  
I am a bisexual furry.  
Who am I?  
I am me, and this is who I am.