Stained Glass

He walks through the halls with you,

Hangs out at the mall with you,

But he’s bangin’ ‘gainst the walls––it’s true––

On those stained glass closet doors.


Days blur by

While minutes stand still.


Maybe because of the things that he hides,

And he’s losing his will,

And all that he can do is sit and stare at the sky,

About to cry,

Intending to die,


But then he sees that guy

And his heart-a-flutters,

But the others

Say that it’s the love of another type.

So what, he’s not a flipping cookie cutter, right?

But he gotta keep his secret tight

Lest his classmates come and ask him who he likes out of spite.


He gets it,

You don’t gotta make a show.

He’s different and can’t fix it.

He was born that way,

But for today,

Maybe no one has to know.


He just wants to be him,

But when you come out to your friends

You become a flipping synonym

Of yourself.

So he puts that fact on a shelf:

In his piggy bank of secrets

Time to make a new deposit,

Which isn’t too far of a walk because he’s already in the closet.


But someday,

Someday he’ll lift up a hammer and SMASH.

The piggy bank explodes, but not with CASH.

How’s THAT for fitting in?

But now he’s splintering,

And the closet doors are open

For the stained glass cracks,

And he’s hoping it’ll heal.

How’s it feel?

He don’t know, he’s still reeling

From the stress, and the mess,

Probably some lack of rest

From the ordeal,

His biggest secret revealed.


Or at least it will be,


Someday, he’ll finally find the bravery.

Someday he won’t keep himself in slavery

Where lies are chores,

And those lies lie behind stained glass closet doors.


I hope that someday

He’ll find a way

To come out and say

That he is…

Artwork by Emma Bertram

Performance: Showtime!, Ridge High School’s Spring Showcase