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Protest
They stand on their "mighty" step ladder,
Venomous words spewing from
A gray, shrill megaphone.
They speak of death and lakes of fire.
A mother cover's her son's ears.
They call us sinners and proclaim we will die of AIDs.
We strike back with words of love and peace,
That hit walls of ignorance.
We hold signs begging that we all coexist.
Theirs declare us "immoral."
Old, cold hearts may never change,
But new ones are waiting to be filled with love
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This poem is inspired by an experience a friend and I had at a Gay Pride Parade/Festival. We stood up to the protesters who where anti-lgbt and we let them see that their words could not break us.