Political unrest

People are outraged.
How can people be so hateful,
how can they be so backward,
how can they discriminate?

Let me tell you something
you don’t know.
This shit isn’t new.

Now, hate and bigotry
is grand-standing
on the national stage.
But not so long ago,
it was a silent whisper,
a mantra ignored by society.

The fear running through my veins
at a small-town 4th of July festival,
the bowling ball in my stomach
when I told people:
I’m not normal.
The cutting stares when I dare
to hold her hand.

We wear hatred like a shawl,
wrapped loosely around our shoulders.
The weight of the world is far less
than the weight of the stare
burning our backs.
We hear stories of people
who die, people
who suffer unimaginable fates
because some god-damned
pitiful soul thinks he has the right
to play God.

You’re outraged,
but we’re scarily comfortable
with death threats and refusals
to serve us.
We know that you know,
and we know that means we’re close.

But you don’t know the half of it.

Political unrest

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