What Rights?

A poem about being different.

What Rights?

What a novel idea,
this concept called freedom.
For the rights that we have,
every battle's hard won.

But the battle's not over.
The end's far from sight.
For what I believe in,
I know I must fight.

They say I am different,
that I must conform,
to the rest of society,
to society's norm.

They say I'm perverted,
I'm disgusting. I'm sick.
That I must see a doctor,
to heal my malady, quick.

But I refuse to conform.
Who I am, I won't change.
I don't care if I'm different;
if they think I am strange.

As long as you're different,
you are viewed with contempt.
There are no exceptions.
There is no one exempt.

And so I'll continue
to proclaim, my voice loud,
that I know I am different.
Of this fact, I am proud.