He stepped out of the closet
Straight into my head,
A swirl of pink and violet
While others looked on,
a mix of confusion and dread
He flits in and out, between my ears
Prancing about most outlandishly
He knows every hope, every wish, every fear
And when I struggle to make sense
He helps me out, by arming me
With a word here and an image there
He knows that he's indispensible—
A lance-bearer from yesteryear
And if my thoughts aren't all together
Still makes me seem knowledgable
I'm not like the others, he once told me
I told him it really was ok
It wasn't a catastrophe
And when I'm lost for poetry,
I'm quite glad my muse is gay
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