
You might be infected with your prejudices and I don’t have the cure.
Every day it’s a back and forth between me being aloof and you being insecure.
Holding up the frozen front takes too much effort to manage as a hobby,
And you will never hear this poem, but without me you would still need to lobby.
Being accepted is a necessity for most – for you it’s a desperate need.
The loyalty train missed your station, but we were young, dancing to “Dying Breed”.
We were losing control to chilly evenings, promising what we didn’t understand,
And I still recall the look on your face when I was holding somebody else’s hand.
The moon ran smoky pictures of our better days by my empty stare…
If your prejudices cost a thing, every single soul in your path would be a millionaire.
-JW