Make A Choice

Choices.
It’s all a choice, isn’t it?
She chose to like girls.
He chose to give himself those scars.
She chose not to believe in God.
He chose to kill himself.
It’s all a choice, right?

And you may choose to hide
Behind your curtain of lies.
I can’t change that.
That doesn’t mean I won’t
Try.

Adam and Eve gone Adam and Steve.
The latest blasphemy
Painting magazine covers.
Twenty regions saying yes.
Still it’s not enough.
But if you can tell me why
These boys and girls, men and women,
These people
Would choose a life of ridicule and scorn
Then you can call it a choice.

Attention whore.
Poison that’s sold for far too cheap
With an impossibly high cost.
They paint their skin in blood
With cold metal that only freezes their tears
And no matter how hard they try
There’s some things you can’t hide.
Whispers hurt just as much
As the brutish accusations
From people who don’t know
What it’s like
To be so empty
Always
And have a razor’s edge
Bring something back.
They may choose to break their skin.
But believe me, they didn’t choose
The circumstances driving that blade.

You never hear this one; I’ll bet you didn’t know:
Atheists hurt, too.
Each group has someone with a
Violent defense. (Extremists, if I may.)
But did you forget the people
Being condemned to a place
Where there is no God to save you
Simply because these atheists can’t
Find the faith in God?
Do you see the irony yet?
And don’t tell me that atheism isn’t Hell on Earth.
Because God means something to live for.
God means something when all this is over.
God means you’re struggling, but there will be a reward.
God means that coffins aren’t forever
And death isn’t good-bye.
Take that away, now.
And don’t you dare tell me your world wasn’t
Shaken.
Why would you choose to believe
In a world with unanswered questions
And fade-to-black endings
Unless you could see no other option?

And my favorite.
She chose to kill herself.
He chose to commit suicide.
This poor soul made the choice to end their life.
Yeah. They took the pills.
Yeah. They tied the noose.
Yeah. Their hands were in control.
But what do you think it takes
To take your life into your own hands –
And throw it away?
It means there’s nothing left to live for.
The act of simply breathing isn’t worth
Whatever torment that person faced.
That human soul was put through shit you can’t
Imagine.
And no other human soul could take it away.
Most times?
No other soul tried.
So before you nail away the blame
In that coffin of someone who was
All too young (no matter how old)
Take a look at yourself.
What choices did you accuse them of making?
What could they simply not control?
What parts of their lives were in your hands?
What choice did you make?

Then what’s left?
A world full of cruelty and murder.
A world full of people driven to “choices”
They would never had made
By people who are probably having their lives
Chosen for them, too.
Look at yourself and choose
To remember that each word you sip, swish, and spit
Leaves a bitter aftertaste for everyone but you.
(The kind that lingers no matter what you use
To wash it away.)
Remember that you don’t know the story
So don’t turn the page
Don’t add in whatever words you please
Don’t throw the book away.
Let people live their lives.
However gay, scarred, or godless
And make a choice.