Am I a statistic, unaware?
Am I realistic, or a characteristic
Sexism is playing tricks with who I am.

I stumble with fear living inside as dark closet gay
Theatrically I am not straight, I had strayed away
From the suicidal thoughts of being ugly.

In a world full of pain and suffering
I lived through painful times
Frightened by Aids, embraced by change.

Every day is a struggle as my condition persist
For better or for worst with my sexuality
I cope with disease estranged and disgraced.

My sex is mistaken for ineffectual and weak
I live in unethical practice of the skin I live in
I’m dying inside, living a lie, with the will to hold on.

The fever is broken and the secret is out
My past is behind me
And my dreams are ahead.