I hold my tongue because it’s proper,
And back out because I’ll lose.
I’m frightened at the idea,
That the world will hate my views.
They will quote me incorrectly,
And plaster me on the news.
They’ll expect me to stand down,
But when asked the same, refuse.
They’ll call out my weaknesses,
And my sins, they will accuse.
They’ll hate me for where I spend my Sunday,
And the words on my tattoos.
They’ll attempt to catch me in the wrong,
To anger me and light my fuse,
Just because of my religion,
And of the God I choose.
I thought this was America,
But maybe I’m confused.
Freedom of Religion,
A Right not meant to diffuse.
There’s no place like home,
Except when home leaves a bruise.
Like the man behind the curtain,
I hide with my excuse.
My embarrassment and shame,
Never fails to amuse.
So I avoid coming on stage,
And ignore each of my cues.
I’m scared to show who I am,
That I might walk into a ruse.
Hiding my belief causes pain,
Because Christianity is my muse.