Shunned At A Funeral - Names

They turn their faces when we speak
Cross the street, call us weak, say our
Hope is outdated, faith
A crutch for fools and broken choirs
They roll their eyes at a words like
Truth, say faith is fear in sunday clothes.
We're too loud for quieter
Rooms, too slow for a world
That only moves
They say we chose the losing side, that
Grace is weakness dressed in lies.
They isolate us, mark us