You see me crying loud,
with my heart on my sleeve.
They see me crying loud,
easy pickings, wishing I'd leave.

You pick me up,
telling me to be proud.
They push me down,
unwelcoming, I'm not allowed.

You tell me that I'm perfect,
because I'm so unique.
They tell me I'm ugly,
that I'm a freak.

You love me, smiling,
say they're ignorant, and wrong.
They hate me, scowling,
say I'm trash and don't belong.

All the while, I ignore the hate
and welcome the love.
My heart sings proudly,
as I hold my beloved.

Forgive me mother,

for I have sinned.

Like most others,

I wish to make amends.



Forgive me mother.

Search your heart.

You are my maker.

How great thou art.



When I try to say what matters,

and everything goes south,

the heat of the moment makes me stutter.

I lose control of my mouth.



When everything falls silent,

and I realize what's been said,

I no longer can repent.

Instead I'm filled with dread.



When I try to say what matters,

and instead I'm overwhelmed,

I ignore the endless chatter.

I now just want to be held.



Once it's all said and done,

those words weigh heavy on my mind.

I feel empty and numb,

and simply wish I had been kind.



Forgive me mother,

for I have sinned.

Like most others,

I wish to make amends.

[enter the punk]
Walking outside,
My nails in black,
My hair a mess,
And oh so sad.
They stare,
They gaze,
They glare,
And they haze.

[enter the bohemian]
Walking outside,
My hair combed neat,
My headband on,
And Me Smoking my ****.
They stare,
They gaze,
They glare,
And they judge me without compare.

[enter the muslim]
Walking outside,
My face concealed,
My body hidden,
And me heading to Mosque.
They stare,
They gaze,
They glare,
And they spit on my prayers.

[enter the free-thinker]
Walking outside,
My heart on my sleeve,
My opinion my own,
And my choices my own.
They stare,
I don't care.
The gaze,
I don't give them the time of day.
The glare,
I don't acknowledge that they are there.

There are times that I wish,
I hadn't been born.
Beneath the fake smiles,
I'm extremely forlorn.
When I'm in a crowd of people,
I feel like nobody can here me.
I've always clung to that ivory steeple.
Now, I am a lost soul not sure what to believe.
My body, a rotting shell, an empty sleeve.
Though my heart feels cold in these moments,
There is a sense of hope for the better days.
Love and it's presence,
Let me count the ways.
Even with the love I have,
Even with the love I feel,
In these moments, my heart isn't glad.
It feels cold like stone,
With a hardness to match.

Let the light find you,
and the dark find me.
Opposite stars,
in the skies we see.
Come to my call,
and fall with me.
Faith is unworthy,
and worthy are we.