I choose to see the human in you,
not the surface of what
I’m supposed to see,
with the attitude I’m meant to have.
I want to see the ache that
is there beating like a heart,
pushing the pain around a soul
that no one cares about.
I choose to see the fingerprint
that lies hidden in the glove,
that is as unique as the universe,
and not diminished by the hate.
I dare to say that you are person,
not one among the many but just one:
just a single being confronted
by the gaze of those who judge.