A dress on a Working class hero…edit1.000001 vagabond

[tectak]

message clear, even to me. maybe even too clear (no, i didn´t say that)
i d like to give some suggestions


It is nineteen sixty-seven and I am a fag, not yet am i gay but queer;
I can only admit that this is what I am because the law said I could this year.
My dad is a labourer, not an outspoken man, just a man with outspoken views,
not just on me (though he says be a man) but mostly on the tv news.
---He hates politicians and he hates police and he hates anyone with a car.---    i would either erase that line or fill in another line that rhymes to "car" since otherwise it interrupts the scheme you kept in the rest of the poem.
He doesn’t think schooling did him any good but don’t think he ever was there.
I haven’t yet told him that I am a puff, mum says that she wouldn’t dare.
But I am.
 
It’s two-oh one-seven and I’m now a gay, dad and mum died a year ago.
I waited until my dad was weak enough then confessed what he must always have known.
He gave me some advice, the first I’d had from him, and he told me a secret that day.
He said he´d been living a whopping lie, a bit like me, i had hated to say.
Seems he wanted to give us something more but felt he was trapped by his birth.
All he could do was to hope things improved so he cast his vote for all of its worth.     
He said that he had wanted to give me a chance of getting up the ladder to success
so he voted with his heart for the tories every time …it was tough to confess.
But he did.

Holy shit, vaga. Thanks for the read through...I left a whole line out when I copied and pasted!
See the edit. Eternally grateful...glad you're taking notice
Best,
tectak