Mon, 09/08/2014 - 23:27 -- bmjkc2


It is a choice.

Those four words have the force, of a thousand.

A thousand words of anger, a thousand words of hate,

Misunderstood, misinformed, is a mind that's in that state.

"How can?", "How could?", They ask with such dispair,

It's not natural, an abomination, your morals must be bare.

It rips, it tears, it burns, it turns ash to my very core,

When those that damn take not the time to see, but instead ignore.

We enplore, persuade, near beg for them to try and understand,

With all the time they take no minute, to see the time at hand.

we conceil ourselves, we attempt to hide, to hide whom which we are,

But with all the anger, hate and violance, what good has it done so far?

Time has come ,take of your mask, and cast them to the ground

and simply live, be who you are, and let love have no bound.

Mask that hide, and destroy our being, take away our very soul,

Let not our life be any less, live life together whole.

To those that say, our self is false, proclaim in stern but caring voice,

We are we, we can not change. It. Is not. A choice.




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