Pictures lie with vague descriptions,
Of faces in black and white,
Those muddied minds and hateful hearts,
Gave grey area power and might.
How could they have hated me?
A stranger,
With hopes and dreams unknown.
What made the babe in their manger,
So different from our own?
And to try to return to the ground,
is harder than I can say,
because while they're gone,
and the world's moved on,
I re-live the horror everyday.
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