My glasses have been dyed in the blood
of my best friend, so I can’t help
it if I see the world differently.
Yes, I know it’s naïve
to look for the good in all men,
but that was what he did.
He saw a beauty that existed in darkness,
and the potential for life in the dead,
so forgive me if I can’t help but see the same.
I’m trying to live my life by this new perspective
and I may make mistakes, but I’ll never apologize
for my change in view. I see love differently now.
I refuse to desecrate his death
by doing less than my best to see people as he saw them,
so I’ll keep looking through these blood stained lenses
because that’s the world I want to create.