They convinced us that maybe we weren't meant to be loved,
as though the crippling sky wasn't made above,
when push came to shove,
we would yell "ENOUGH IS ENOUGH!"
We weren't the pillow that people fluffed,
left to be coated and settled in dust,
from dawn to dusk.
We stood out,
The black sheeps, mythical dragons and unicorns,
ostracized from trumpets and flutes we were unique horns,
the same way we were never the petals but the thorns.
We were thrown salty remarks
until prickling words made their mark.
They would never quit,
until roses began to decay and wilt,
draining the black ink from the feathered quilt,
till it became useless.
Humans however are not quilt,
there is no black ink to be drained,
only the love in our hearts that became stained,
with all their criticism,
and yet they thought it was pleasurable to our ears,
dipping us in the same light as those who enjoy masochism.
Love comes from inside the heart,
but they made us feel as though looks is where it starts,
and while everyone else were cars we were go-karts,
always felt inferior at their words,
and in constant pretense that they were not heard.
Our words became loss in translation,
slowly we eventually loss our patience,
As though somehow we became a part of a nation,
A nation that despised those who stood out,
Filling our minds and soul with doubt,
Until there's nothing left to do but shout.
Even when we were loved since birth,
they tried to degrade our true worth,
so as afflicted souls wander on,
we ask ourselves, "was the love ever gone?"