The Children of a Lesser God
We are the huddled masses
yearning to be free
but living in itself lay is often rose-colored glasses,
and remains quite the mystery.
We ache for freedom transfixed
some random yet open display
of races, children, braggarts, heroes, and cowards intermixed,
with declarations of straight, transgender and gay.
What does it really matter as we align
when each one of us live separate lives
barely marking time with impacts undefined
just giving everything in life a try to survive
We rarely know what we want or need,
buried deep lay the truths of who we are
shouldn't we be grateful that we are free to believe
that a god, kind and loving created dust from stars?
It doesn't matter if you're white, yellow, black or brown
or if you're straight or gay or a giant tree or mustard seed
each is creation of an unseen god pulling up when you fall down
god doesn't answer every prayer, god gives you what you need.
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