We live a good life, but they do not care.

We try to be kind, and yet, they do not care.

To them we are cursed, our love belongs in a hearse.

The ‘welcoming’ gates of heaven lock on our arrival.

The cruel fires of hell ignite at our very touch.

How can love, so pure, so kind, be reason to endure such pain on our mind?

For when scarlet drops form and fall, like innocent tears, to you they call...

Begging for forgiveness, hoping for new life,

but still you turn away from their lonesome strife.

at the tip of a blade, escape awaits.

at the tip of a blade, reality fades away.

Where do we fit in? 

Different in a world of duplicates.

Where do we fit in? 

Proud in a world of shame.

we are rainbows in a crowd content with black and white.

we are prisoners of society’s shame.