Not a poem.

Before I start my poem, tell me a few things.
About when did you mould your clay into an altogether different pot that doesn't feel like you.
When did you become this person who's a walking dictionary of all that is flawed?
Look at you, what happened to you?
When did you start to add meanings to words all on your own?
Meanings that are meaningless to their root?
Tell me when did the word gay mean homosexual to you when all it ever meant was happy.
And tell me since when did your brow start to raise in a questioning manner each time you saw someone who looked a little different from what you assume to be 'decent'
And tell me since when did decency start to house itself in those legs without hair or those clothes that cover you Full?
Since when did your body host all religious beliefs and when exactly did you start to defend all that doesn't even exist?
I want to write a poem and believe me I'll start with it soon, but first tell me.
Tell me honey that since when did amber only mean to you the shade of lords and not of all the brilliant short dresses that you threw out of the window last night because they sinned your wardrobe.
And tell me why does love mean lie?
Or why does heart mean black?
Why is the sea all about ashes and why does the word man mean nothing but anger.
Why does female mean silence and why on earth would you tell me that LGBT is just another word for sinners.
I intended to write a poem, honey.
I guess I wrote an eulogy instead.