Why can’t I get an attitude when I’m not invited?
Throw a tantrum like a spoiled toddler.
I want to shout and complain when things are going awry.
I want to withhold my words until things fall in line.
I shall carry these grudges until they bury me deep!
You’ve ****** me off, so a slap is what you need!
I want what you have, so I’m taking it from your grasp,
as I walk away joyful; the thought of you is now part of my past.
I want to be the pettiest person you’ve ever meet,
but I’m an adult; so all I can do is fake-smile and pretend.

Who are we to say
that a love is not to be?
That a love does not belong
and can never be set free?

Who are we to think
that a kind is not our people?
That a kind is far beneath us
and will never be as equal?

Who are we to feel
that a face can look unusual?
That a face must be a canvas
and be painted to be beautiful?

Who are we to judge?
To say love is prohibited?
To think below of others?  
To feel minds can be limited?

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