I have never been told to hate the junkie on the street To judge her value by her smell or filth or bare feet. And if I could choose whether she should live or die, The choice is clear, I would choose life. As for the bigot full of malice and anger I still have not been told to hate him either. And if I could choose whether he should live or die, The choice is clear; for him, I choose life. Being so young, I have not been told to be enraged At the killer living in his cage. Though the jury, judge, and law think he should die, The choice is clear; for him, I choose life. And the mother who chooses: “a baby is too much” For her reputation, comfort, career, and such. Or the Doctor helping her deal with the strife, I still don’t hate either; for them, I choose life. Or preachers and politicians condemning all of the above I don’t know how to hate them, my first instinct is love. He shouts and distorts each circumstance, saying they deserve to disappear, be locked aw
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