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You won't find mine In some building It will be found while we're all mingling You won’t find it some picture You will find it while were gathered around a bake mixture
I AM part of a generation, the result of carelessness I WONDER if the damage can be undone; if we can find our heritage I HEAR tales of a time of change; times long gone
World packed with cruel hate. It’s written in their fate. What can the people do? The worst part—the revulsion isn’t new.
When a feeling becomes so warm so warm I want to taste it not a harsh slap of spicy flavors
Why do we love if it hurts to do so? And why do we long for something so far away? What is our reason for being, for existing? And what defines who we are and separates us from the others?
I have a voice; Strong and loud. Can make people listen, People in the crowd. I know right from wrong; I'm not sitting in a cloud. I'll scream till you hear me; Scream really loud!
If I was straight I wouldn’t be writing this damn thing If I was straight I wouldn’t need to hide my basic humans needs If I was straight would you still dehumanize me? Take away my rights and claim there “not meant to be”
Like the earth beneath a popular tree, life is shaded. The existence of knowledge stands firm and strong, yet, some and many cease to acknowledge the light peeking through its leaves.
This is me, this is who I am. This is my life, this is my business. I respect you, and I respect your choices. Respect mine.
Years ago a flame was lit, a world divided, all people split. Moves were made by those daring few, some from bus seats, some from a pew. A line that divided was intentionally crossed,