A Boy in Lipstick
A poem about self-love

They laughed at him that first time. When he walked on into school. They mocked and stared, made fun of him. They thought he was a fool.
His lips ablaze with colour, Yet the skies overhead fell grey. Teasing tore into darkness, “You look like a loser,” they’d say.
Red was always his favourite. Vibrant, thick, and crisp. But once it was no longer lipstick, Still as red, but split with a lisp.
Never did it stop him, though. For love he knew sometimes meant pain. So he painted his face each morning. For love, he’d endure it all again.
And now he’s on stage — a hero. A star inferno burning atop his smile. The boy in lipstick who changed the world. Yeah. I think it was pretty worthwhile.






