I am not enslaved.
I'm ignored by the misbehaved.
Those with a lust for power,
Spoke my name, in your darkest hour.
To convince you that I am malformed.
To provide for you a view deformed.
And you took that view,
Discarding what you childishly knew,
For what you were told was adult.
Hate is the name of that view,
Hate is an all-consuming cult,
Unrepentant of its ways,
Marking the many days,
Until it can say that when you and they wilt,
It's your fault.
Or mine.
For when,
When I am absent,
Like a working parent,
ONE thing is apparent:
When I return,
Love is heaven-sent.