Preface

I never thought that my life could be so… complicated. I thought that life is simple :-

1) I fall in love with a girl that I like.
2) We date out and get to know each other.
3) We fall deeper in love.
4) We fulfill each other’s sexual desires.
5) We decide to live our life together for the rest of our remaining years.

However, it turned out not to be the case, because my heart falls for those on the same side of the river of love. It may sound tragic, and to most people it is… but it is hard for me to deny the feelings inside me.

I surf the net for answers, but none are of worthy; alas I found a poem that was penned by an unknown writer. It is a poem that really makes you think about how we judge and condemn people for being different – a situation that I can relate to.

Do you know what it is to be an outsider
on the other side of the fence?
How alone you would feel, if excluded you were.
Does it make any sense?

Can you imagine the isolated soul
with no-one in sight to hear
the cries and the tears that your heart would shed,
and the constant, looming fear?

Can you see in your mind the life of a man
without anywhere to belong?
Because a society judged him unworthy,
because they think they’re right, and he’s wrong.

Try and imagine the pain that you’d feel,
with sneers and hateful words, and spit at your heels.
What would it be like if the gates were locked;
you couldn’t get in, and you couldn’t get out?

Imagine the feeling that you’re worthless,
some dirt that’s been stepped on by someone’s uncaring shoe.
Perhaps at that point it’s too much for your heart,
and you take your own life, to stop it hurting you.

Imagine this world, for maybe a minute,
after that you can stop; you don’t like it, sure
but there are people who go through this every day,
and they can’t stop it, unless they’re no more.

So when you hear of hate, bigots and death,
don’t side with haters, cause that’s how you’ve been bred.
Imagine how it is, or was for that guy,
the one that’s hurt, or lying dead.

So imagine the feelings and memories too,
of people oppressed, hated, abused;
Of people who lived outside of that fence
and what they came to – does it make sense?

It may or may not make sense to you… but this is my story.