The Hated Art

The story begins again,

Although different words yet same feelings.

After being hated, brutally burned and hurt,

Returning to where I went away from, helped in my Healing.

The bright splashed colours on me, 

Turned darker, I feel so old and dead.

Wasn't I meant to be praised?

Wasn't I meant to be receive love,

deep as the colour red.

I was painted and brought alive to be the grace of the world,

Not its pity.

The art is meant to be placed in a museum,

Not to get torn by some mind gray beards who don't believe in LGBTQ Equality. 

Will this be my fate? 

Will this be my end?

Harrassed and hate,

Maybe somethings to happen, are meant.