They ask me,
When I write a poem of sorrow,
How is it that I am sad,
For I wear the smiles of tomorrow?
They ask me,
If they, by chance, see my tears,
Why do I worry,
When I have no cause for fears?
They ask me,
They ask me,
And I would tell them – I could –
(It hardly matters, if I should -)
But how do I explain
The years that pile on grief,
Little memories of deep wounds
That never brought relief,
How a father abused,
And bullies snatched my share,
How society points fingers,
How some malign, how some glare,
How the men I loved
Left me, for who I became,
And how, instead of shaming them,
I took almost all the blame,
How just when I feel at ease,
With the weight of difference I carry,
A sister feels she must lie,
When she makes her plans to marry,
How straight people have rights,
How my mother forgets my love,
How my country condemns me,
How I gave up every god above?
They tell me,
You still shine bright like a star –
And I know, I twinkle,
Because all they want is to watch me from afar.
Hearts Still Care 