Analysis of Homophobia Not

What if he could tell?
He would utter with disdain
About the feces on his head
And that foul, unbearable scent;
A waste for a cologne.
 You misguided fools,
Why should I push that little man in tubes filled with stool?
Little, but gifted for his size;
The purpose of my being,
The apple of my eyes.
The rough terrain call for a rubber suit
And polished rubber boots;
At least, that’s what they say.
A kiss from a damsel’s lips
Creates a lion from a log,
And rejuvenates a gloomy day.
Empathically I reasoned,
And unanimously concluded.
I would never force my friend to go in,
Not even to salvage this nightmare
I identified with life,
Knowing there is filth within those corroded pipes