Would it matter to you
If I was black or blue
From bruises given to me
Or from the ones I gave to a few?
Would it matter if I could fly
Or crushing ants made me cry
Because their lives aren’t something we should pass by
Since they still have souls
It wouldn’t matter to me
If you were in prison or roamed free
Walking the streets or confined in a cell
Living in heaven or going through hell
Because I still love you
So if I told you I deviated from the normal path
Would I have to face your wrath?
Or would you shun me like I think you would
You don’t have to agree, but I think you should
At least understand my heart
Which overflowed from the start
And it couldn’t contain everything inside
So I stopped hiding feelings I tried hard to hide
Now that you know me outside of the game
Do you still love me just the same?
This poem was written a couple of months ago, and a lot has changed since those couple of months. While this poem is plagued with uncertainty and sad devotion, it also depicts hope. A silver lining in the clouds, and I’m happy to report that the bad weather eventually dissipated, metaphorically speaking. And, perhaps naively, I still hope that the silver lining will prevail.