"Fag" "Love"

It was there on his chest
"Fag"
Was it on mine?
I never wanted to be
the cattle of a movement.
Charm.
I wanted flattery.
I needed the validating force,
the historic power of a "you and I".
Let someone,
anyone,
give to me
identity,
mission,
tomorrow.
Grandma never had to scream,
march for it.
What a painfully easy,
 flaw of a promise
she willed to me.
Pulling up her onions,
cultivating all she deserved
from the world,
from her master.
Why was it not mine?
I assumed as much.
As a child I did
learn,
pray,
behave.
Where, oh where, is the faithful
idea of deserving?
I have sowed a life,
but they took the reaping.
Now, here I stand in the middle
thoughtfully branded with it.
"Love"