Gravity seems compelled to affect my tears alone.

I'm suspended above the crowd that will always judge me.

They see me as falling,but I'm stuck in the air--

                                                                      --caught in the thought of those who can no longer accept me.

Opinionated?

                         Yes, Sir.

                                       Loud-mouth?

                                                               Yes, Ma'am.

                                                                                      Believer?

                                                                                                       Proud of it.

 Do I listen to the wrong music?

                                                        Who are you to determine that it's wrong?

Do I sing too loud on Sundays?

                                                         "Make a joyful noise."

Do I spin too wildly?

                                    Quite often.

                                                         Do I dress wierdly?

                                                                                            Was I meant to dress for your approval?

I am me--unedited.

I apologize for anyone that I have hurt,

But I will not apologize for who I am.

For this, I will stand trial.

When

           you

                  twist

                           my words

                        into         rope

                     and               hang

                       me           with

                          the "truth",

All I can do is lay suspended over a crowd of vipers.  

I hear a few sweet voices sing me a lullaby,

But I'm not willing to bid this life goodbye.  

Despite what you see,

I am happy with me.