Dear LBGT Community,

 

The trickle of water from the faucet while a toothbrush is in your mouth is such a tragedy

But activating against an issue will never disrupt the milky way galaxy

For your sense of morality will determine that our feelings are blasphemy

Acknowledging that what I’ve lost is humanity

We have been forced to hide in this place called the closet

Where all of our feelings are considered to be too composite

And all they will tell us is that we've lost it

But wouldn’t that make them hypocrites

For they are the ones who are stuck on the idea that we cannot love

Because this community we are a part of

Because the one I think the world of

Is someone you aren’t permitting of

Because we have something similar on our bodies

But I didn’t know love was established based on a body

For what is in one’s mind determines who we really are

But what’s inside the mason jar

A jar filled with two kinds of rocks

Shouldn’t create a paradox

For a jar filled with sand and dirt

Has no more worth

On this earth

These views put us in denial

And may even cause our loved ones to hear that telephone dial

May all be because you live by something called a bible

Something telling you what to believe

And maybe the next thing you’ll do is grieve

Grieve the loss of one you loved

Because acceptance is something your mind cannot process it has been shoved

Shoved inside the box you were given when you were three

A decision was made so poorly

That your mind can only fathom what you been told

But what if I gave you a blindfold

And told you to sketch a drawing

I don’t need to know what it is I need to know what’s stopping

Stopping you from believing something that is actually your own

Don’t tell me that all you can draw is a stone

When I know your thoughts could disrupt the ozone

Would you stand behind a chair

Knowing it’s not fair

That you could be shot

When you really know the whole plot

Your feet are not concrete

You are an athlete

Your voice has more power than a simple tweet

So do not be discrete

An author doesn’t write a book

For their ideas to be stolen by some crook

Enough of the internet telling you that you’re shook

If your opinion isn’t stated, write your own book

Because that trickle of water

Shouldn’t make a mother have any less of a daughter

For loving girls instead of boys

Our feelings should not become white noise

Our voices have power

Do not remain a wallflower

 

Sincerely,

Erica Osman