The "Milk"y Way

Dear Harvey Milk,


The "Milk"y Way


Each day he woke and mourned,

and underlying consistent struggle,

of not wanting to be who he was born,

a lifelong internal trouble.


He dreamt to float in desolate space,

and be the shining star he truly was,

only there could he lovingly embrace

himself without worrying about derogative laws.


But, reality acts as gravity,

and unwillingly ripped him back to earth,

twisting and flailing his body absently,

and suffocated his cofidence and self-worth.


Once his sole broke the atmosphere,

he felt the unbearable pain and emotion,

of humanity's cruelty, his heart seared,

and his hope burned from the explosion.


He was buried amongst a crater of words,

yet he died outspoken...


This poem is about: 
Our world


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