if only you can see it from every angle, every side
where am i allowed to be myself?
only in my words and where i write
it seems like what i was, am doesn't deserve life
i pondered what to do with my struggle every night
help me god, i prayed, help me survive
i was told im too weird to live, but i didn't want to die
i couldnt change my kind no matter how often i tried
you swear this is living, having to hide?
expected to hold on, yet left alone to fight
i hate my oppressors, yet i'm told to be kind