This village of two hundred and fifty six people probably won’t ever be ready for you.
Your secret will haunt the community for as long as it takes them to pretend you don’t exist
At first people may scream and cry
Fathers will load their shotguns and little old ladies will lock their doors
Afraid that you are bold enough to profess your love for another man
But behind the bolted windows and petrified stares
Know that you are not alone
Supporters will come from the most unknown places
Someday we can hope this place will change
But that doesn’t mean you have to wait to be honest with yourself
This place will always be filled with gossip
Where news is spread between hair dryers at the local salon
And political conservatism is ten times bigger then the grocery store
In this small corner of the world, where kind words and friendly greetings are waiting on every street corner you will meet the disgusting face of hatred
But when hatred dies, love will come up from it’s ashes