Rainbow

Written by Vincent Lin from China

They often say, 

no rainbow without rain. 

Well, the water’s poured all monsoon season — 

unending, interminable, rainbowless. 

Water curtains flood, 

dappled with my despair, 

friendships too broken to repair, 

my life tangled like hair.

“Sissy!” calls my “friend”, 

and no one lends a helping hand. 

Under dazzling neon lights, 

they’re all fake as my feigned delight.

Oh please... 

tell me what I’ve done wrong, 

for being born this way — born gay.

Every night I cry beneath blankets. 

Outside the window, city lights stretch, 

but not one lamp of hope 

lies within my reach.

Then I remember May, 

when that girl sat near me, 

and listened as I complained 

about their disdain.

She turned and asked, 

“Are you gay?” 

I nodded softly, 

not daring to say.

“Don’t worry — I’m pansexual.” 

And she high-fived me. 

In three minutes, I spit it all out — 

the nightmares of the past three years.

That summer, I learned how to smile again.

The summer winds would blow away that rain. 

In an instant, it’s the next May — 

the days where I could finally say,

proudly, that I’m gay.

I won’t run from the spotlight. 

I won’t shiver at parties. 

Holding hands, I’ll run down the hallways 

happily under the summer glow.

Put that mascara on, 

and some blush on my cheeks — 

my shiny lip gloss 

reflecting the world’s flashlight.

They often say,

no rainbow without rain. 

Well, the rain’s poured all monsoon season — 

but that rainbow will shine, all my life.