They told me it gets better.
If you just hang on, this will pass.
I always thought they were wrong,
bandying about their prepackaged phrases
that felt more at home
on a Hallmark card
I clung to my oh-so-special brand of moody teenaged cynicism
refusing to accept that the clouds would someday clear
And the thunder would rumble no longer.
It gets better was nothing more than a fantasy
used to placate the marginalized
and absolve those in power of any lingering guilt
It gets better was a lie.
Then I found haven.
I happened upon a place where
normalcy was frowned upon
and all manner of eccentricities were lauded
I found a home.
I got better.