I am not beyond intolerance,
Ignorance sometimes I feel.
I am not beyond the hatred.
Though I am beyond belief.
At times my love runs dry,
And many times it seems a waste.
Many days I feel an urge,
An urge to stop, reflect, and quit.
But somehow, though in spite of things,
In spite of what I face and see,
I feel that I must be a hero,
It's my belief that I should stay strong.
Martyred are my heart and soul,
But friendly is my strange demeanor.
Loud are my convictions,
While my inner hatred soothes.