Content

It smells like cigarettes and alcohol as the crowd stumbles around me
The beat of the drum matches my heart inside me
And I find my feet tapping and my body moving
And I am content

Yet if they could see me now, I’m sure they would frown
I’ve grown accustomed to you shaking your head at me
Yet I wonder what is so wrong with loving what I love and being who I am
When I am content?

I’ve never been one to follow someone else’s rules
What does not bend is easily broken
I cannot follow your rules; I cannot be just like you
I am content

You preach “Speak the truth in love,” yet I only feel judged
So how must those feel who don’t know what we know?
You must feel so special as you become a Pharisee
Are you content?

I have tattoos and gauges and sinners for friends
We drive fast in our cars and listen to hard music
But I’ve found more love and acceptance here than in your four walls
And we are content

I wonder, do you even know him at all?
Because you have never loved them, but they are learning to love
So I wonder, who are we to judge
When he is content?

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