Submitted Date 04/15/2019

Clothes thrown on the floor
Tears shed on the bed
They called me a whore
And my eyes bled

Sing me the song
The song of your hate
I guess it must be wrong
To not be straight

My lover and I
We shine so bright
People point and ask why
We fill the night sky

If your love is right
I guess mine must be wrong
Your teeth at us bite
Yet we will stand strong

Your love is no better
No better than mine
I will break off the fetters
And call myself divine

My love will live always
Your hate is unheeded
I sing my own praise
Your voice is not needed

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