In the night, I do not think of anger or hate,
I think of love.
Is that not strongest of emotions?
Hate and anger itself can cause death,
Love itself creates life.
Whether I be insane or sane,
Dumb or brilliant,
Hated or loved,
I myself am not one to speak of it,
And yet I do.
Deep and darkened is what you see,
And yet I see the light in everyone.
Anger and hate you see,
But I only feel love.
An eerie smile and creepy jokes you notice,
Yet you do not notice the ones I raise.
In truth I have felt a mother's kiss,
But never a lover's.
I speak in openness and freedom from worry,
And yet I myself be scorned for my freedom?
I tell dark deeds on paper,
For in sooth I tell you,
Some have been more exposed to the dark,
They themselves be scarred by it,
Yet thusly continue to stand.
While others crumble and fall.
My heart I give freely,
Though it does not become received.
I wish I were normal,
But I cannot ever be.
I pray for love,
And it does not come.
Myself, I do not ask out of desperation,
Or in sweat,
But in a humble prayer.