I've been raised in a world that dictates who you can love.
Not by the foundation of their character, but the structure of their bodies.
A point where I feel ashamed to mention that the girl walking past me is beautiful.
Too ashamed to mention the time I reached for her hand and wanted to hold it.
Not for a hand to hold, but because I wanted hers.
Difficult to fight; can you help liking who you like?
As I mumble the acceptance I can't bring myself to accept,
who is doing the greater disservice?
Me to society?
Or me to myself?