How awful it must be,
Woefully lonely,
To live in a world where your loving
Makes you a freak,
To live for a place just above your knees.
As for me,
I am weak
And know not where I stand.
I take that back.
I stand in a bed of quick sand.
I don’t want to fight, just escape
From the misunderstanding, miscommunication,
And hate.
I love you, I’m true,
But the thought of advocating what you want to do?
Isn’t there a deeper injustice we could fight?
Aren’t you worth more than where you end up each night?
How awful it must be
To not get that support from me.
Not spiritually.
But legally?
Dear God, bless this country!
This is when the sand starts to consume me.
Whose idea was it to hand a sacrament over to legislators?
Because all I can do know is keep this in my prayers.
Let me assure you of how awful that is for me.