One: Twentyseven

when will the weak shame the strong

and not collapse into our own arms

when will we raise our flags past half-mast

and not collapse into our own arms

but shame will keep us who we are

shame is the anchor tied around my ankle

shame keeps me low and close to the bottom

where I am the least

at the bottom

where pride has never been and never will

the swell of my chest

I stand on this

where pride has never been and never will

the swell of my chest

I call this brave

but how dare I call this love

and not bear my cross to the end

how can I call this love when all that I am

is because your love endures my back to it

your love endures my back to it

your love endures my back to it