Poetry
Oh perfect love of ours called sin,
Altruism seen not within,
Beautiful poetry they miss,
When we the Wilkerson brothers kiss.
Express love they abominate,
Try to the truth illuminate,
Our darkness sate with shreds of hope,
Through all their hate manage to cope.
Best savor brushings of our skin,
Let not our blind oppressors win,
Drop roses in a deep abyss,
But hold closest moments of bliss.
Simply because we chose to date,
Our very souls they oft berate,
Beyond attempts to live, not mope,
They show us trees and offer rope.
Faced with utmost unfair a war,
We simply, ceaselessly adore,
Though one another we even shove,
Best is our unadulterated love.