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Love is defined as affection towards another person.  This definition does not limit this powerful emotion to just a man and a woman.  Of course there are many types of love, such as that of a parent towards a child, or a good friendship, but focus on romantic love.  The constitution does not say that love must be confined to a man and a woman either.  Yet we as the United States of America still leave it up to states to allow or ban two people of the same sex to become legally married.  Some religions believe that homosexuals will go to hell, and some people believe that the planet should be ridden of this “filth.”  Is it wrong to love? Government limits love, religion limits love, and intolerant people limit love, and we must all put up with the hate thrown at us until we can stand up for what is right.

The United States government allows discrimination even though we have the pursuit of happiness.  They do not say that two people of the same sex cannot be together, yet they still limit our freedom as human beings.  In very few states are homosexuals allowed to have a civil union, and in even fewer they are allowed to be married.  Some people say that civil unions are marriages, but they are most certainly not.  Just as an example, marriages are kept across state lines.  For instance, if a couple gets married in California, which allows civil unions and marriages, and they move to Nevada, they are no longer considered “married”.  This is only one example of many differences that separate civil unions from marriages.  By depriving a certain people a right shared by everyone else is discrimination, and by separating a people from others is segregation.  The government sets the rules and the path for the country, and if the government discriminates, people seem to think that it is acceptable when it is clearly not.

In some religions, homosexuality is thought to be a sin, punishable by a life in hell.  That is similar to saying that all people who like to eat pizza will go to hell.  Although these emotions may seem irrational to a third party, somehow they feel natural to those who believe them.  Hitler persuaded an entire nation to believe that Jews were the reason for Germany's downfall, and some, but not all religions are beginning to share traits with this horrific man's work.  There is an online religious site that supposedly “cures” homosexuality.  On this site, the message “God hates fags” is written as well as an entire list of over 50 bands that supposedly promote homosexuality, many of which are popular among today's teens.

They are ideas like these which are instilled within childrens minds and stay throughout their lives.  Parents are the biggest role models in families, therefore if parents act ignorant and intolerant, it is most likely that their  children will be the same.  Religion and government influence people enough for 6 million Jews to be killed in Germany and certainly enough for 3rd graders to be running around calling each other fags, when they most likely have no idea what it means.  Someone once said, “Why is there enough religion to incite war, but not enough to instill tolerance?”  This question should be asked around the world because we desperately need help if we are to continue as a whole nation.
"I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America, and to the Republic for which it stands: one Nation under God, indivisible, With Liberty and Justice for all."

Think about this pledge when you read this editorial.

I wrote this for a English project.
I would love constructive criticism, however, please be kind.

I have a close connection to to this topic which is why I chose to write on it.
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This is hwo i really feel and always will feel~):
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12. Insanity

Thu Jul 25, 2013, 8:32 AM
This is crazy.
It sure seems hazy.

Why do I keep doing this?
Searching for elusive bliss.

I find myself ever chasing.
From one to the other, racing.

I know what will happen after.
And it sure ain't no laughter.

I can't stand how it makes one feel.
It takes a long time for me to heal.

But for some reason I  still do it.
I know, stupid, I must admit.

I keep thinking this is the one.
After all this time, I've finally won.

So how come it never is?
And I just sit here with my frizz.

Why am I the one who always gets hurt?
And want to bury myself within the dirt?

Don't I deserve better?
What, no time for a letter?

Sometimes I think I might be messed up.
But then again who isn't?

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Granting you forgiveness, none,
For what matters most is what you've done,
Don't take it too kindly,
Thinking you'll ever get away,
But alas, you are sadly mistaken,
If you think that even for a moment,
That you will ever get away,

I am patient, no more,
Crime that you committed,
Cannot be pardoned,
Your soul will not have peace,
I will hunt you down even as you plead,
I have no mercy,
I do not forgive,

I forget your crimes, not,
They are burned within my mind,
As I see the one I loved suffer,
From such an unspeakable sin,
How dare you even think,
That you could commit a crime,
Thinking it justified,

I say peace, not anymore,
I wage a war that destroys the world,
Hide, you coward, hide,
Run, you bastard, run,
Nothing on Earth,
Will restrain me,
Not even Death himself,

Your plea for mercy, denied,
I grant no forgiveness,
I grant no mercy,
I grant no relent,
For your crime is too great,
Such deed cannot be erased,
My rage cannot be replaced,

I murdered you,
For I don't forgive,
For I don't forget,
You deserve Death,
Not even ten years in prison,
Is deserving of your kind of sin,

I burned you,
And turn you to ash,
As you burn I spit in your face,
I stomp on your body,
As it was consumed by flames,
Of anger,
Of justice.
For :iconlove-literature:'s weekly prompt
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I don't like walnuts.
I have 2 cats. But I'm a dog person.
I like the color blue. But dislike lavender.
I have lots of books that I read.
I have no religion but wish to someday.
I like to sing and play piano.
Freddy Mercury is my celebrity hero.
I think it's okay to hang out with straight people.
But I feel uncomfortable changing in a locker room.
I try to see people for their soul and not for their looks.
I'm self conscious about my body and appearance.
Some techno annoys me beyond understanding.
I'm allergic to bug bites.
Part of me has gave up on love
but another part is hopeful that some day I'll find someone.
Sometimes I'm scared of the dark.
I don't like Cher or Britney Spears very much.
I like the quirky, the unusual, and the strange
I believe in ghosts and the spirit world.
I don't worship the devil.
I try and act tough most of the time.
Cottage cheese I find to be disgusting.
I love art and all kinds of music.
I like getting to know new people and share thoughts.
I sometimes like to argue and stand for my beliefs.
Someday I want to travel the world.
I love learning about new things.
I love to help people with their problems.
One day I want to be an art therapist.
I'm a virgin and never have been kissed.
I believe that virginity and first kiss to be very special.
I think beanbag chairs are amazing seats. Every cubical should have one.
I was scared of geese as a child.
My name is Zachary Thomas Booker Scott.
And I'm gay.
But there's more to me than that.  
Some people will judge you by one thing and maybe even hate you. I just want those people to know there's more to me being gay.
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There's a key that I've hidden away.
Beneath the trinkets and lace.
I've kept it buried deep.
In hopes no one will find it's hiding place.

It holds treasure.
That's rarely been touched.
I've kept it hidden.
It's been shattered enough.

If by some unusual miracle.
You stumble by it's place of rest.
Hold it safely in your hands.
And never let it go.
~
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American in France
FrancexReader

“Excusez-moi?” you said to yet another passing French person and getting the same reaction of a turned-up nose and the facade of them having not heard you. You raised your voice a bit, desperate for some help. “Excusez-moi?”

You silenced yourself, however, when one woman sent you a harsh glare. Cringing, you turned around and stepped off the curb. You only had one foot on the road, however, when you ran into yet another person.

Murmuring a rushed apology, you kept your (e/c) eyes on the ground in front of you as you began to walk away, but you were stopped by the light touch of a hand catching your wrist. Fearful that someone with very strong feelings about an American being in their country was now going to harm you, you pulled your other arm up to protect your face from the person.

A soft chuckle was heard from the person and you peered from behind your wrist. It was a man, and a rather handsome one at that. He was watching you with curious blue eyes, a slight smile on his long face. “Do you need some help?” he asked you in accented English.

“Yes,” you sighed in relief, dropping your arm from in front of you. The Frenchman still held onto your other wrist, though. An angry biker road past, shouting back at the two of you.

Your new tour guide laughed a bit. “How about we go find somewhere else to talk? Perhaps I can help you out over coffee?”

Smiling at the man with a flushed face, you nodded.

Weaving through the crowd, the French stranger guided you to a little restaurant on the corner of a less crowded street. Not walking in, he sat on one of the outside dining chairs and watched as you lowered yourself into the one opposite him.

“So,” he smiled at you, “What’s a lovely young woman like you doing wandering the streets of Paris all by herself.”

You blushed a bit. “Ah,” you mumbled, “Well, you see. I was trying to find somewhere where I could just sit and read, but, well, I got a bit lost.” You shrugged, that irritating little blush still apparent on your cheeks.

The man who saved you from the crowd laughed quietly. “Well you could always read here!” he suggested with a smile, “They have the best coffee in town, if you ask me.”

“Alright,” you said softly, “Thank you.”

He got up and left, but for some reason you knew you’d be seeing him again while you were visiting the beautiful, yet somewhat hostile, country of France.

And, sure enough, about a week later you ran into that man again. “Je suis désolé,” you muttered, not quite seeing anything but pale skin and blonde hair. A moment after bumping into the man, you heard a soft chuckle. “Your French has gotten much better,” he laughed as you pulled away.

“Oh!” you gasped with a growing grin, “It’s you! I never did get to ask your name.”

The man gave you a mock bow, hand fluttering dramatically. “Francis Bonnefoy,” he told you, glancing up, “At your service.”

You giggled a bit at his silly-looking gestures. “I think you’ve already been more that enough help.”

Standing up straight, Francis smiled at you, a look that made your heart skip a beat. “Then perhaps you’d like to go get a coffee?”

“Yes,” you said with a soft smile of your own on your face, “I’d love to.”

Just a little idea I've had in my head since my dive coach told me that when he went to France then weren't very welcoming to him and his friend. Not that we blame them, he himself said that "Americans make a mess everywhere they go, it's no wonder everyone dislikes us."

I don't really like how this story turned out...
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Here's to the mother who never cared

The brother and sister who wouldn't share


Here's to the teachers who never asked

The students and peers who always passed


Here's to the man who sat on the road

The homeless and weak who cracked the code


Here's to the animals who sat by my side

The big and small ones who held me as I cried


Here's to the father who wanted to know why

The nieces and nephews who waved goodbye


Here's to the counselors who wanted to hear

The faculty and staff who shed not a tear


Here's to the woman who grasped the hard truth

The doctor and nurse who labeled my papers “Ruth”


Here's to the teddy who grasped my hand

The lions and tigers who could understand


Here's to the bully who prayed for my death

The mean and cruel who still called me “Seth”


Here's to the people who prayed not for me

The good and evil whose 'morals' I couldn't see


Here's to the gates who opened their arms

The angels and guardians who meant no harm


Here's to the God who opened his heart

The lord and savior who watched me fall apart

Here's to the silence.

--

Writing (c) :iconamerfere:
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O Volturi

(Sung to the tune of O Christmas Tree)

Written by Aro


O Volturi, O Volturi

How smexy your leader is!

O Volturi, O Volturi

How smexy your leader is!

His pearly fangs, his luscious hair

I'm sorry, but he can't be shared.

O Volturi, O Volturi

How smexy your leader is!


O Volturi, O Volturi

how yummy your 2nd leader is!

O Volturi, O Volturi

how yummy your 2nd leader is!

Can beat a human till they're black and blue
When he's with me, WHAT a woohoo!

O Volturi, O Volturi

how yummy your 2nd leader is!


O Volturi, O Volturi

How (um...) emo your 3rd leader is!

O Volturi, O Volturi

how (um...) emo your 3rd leader is!

In his throne, blank, he just sits there.

Looks at you with that emo stare...

O Volturi, O Volturi

how (um...) emo your 3rd leader is!

The Volturi, cruel, cunning, and...musical?

You heard it here folks. The Volturi are coming out with their first album: Now THAT'S What I Call Volturi. The press are TRYING to get more information on the subject, but...once they go in to investigate, let's just say they fall down on the job.

It's been rumored that the leader of the Volturi, Aro, started this on a whim. This is there first single that they have actually released, but it's rumored that there is more to come. Solos, duets, the whole gang...we're talking about everything folks!

-----------------------
TOATALLY RANDOM INSPIRATION. My friend and I have started to make these 'spoof' songs for the Volturi. Like the idea?

On this song, Aro is featured in the first verse, Caius in the second, and Marcus in the third. When Aro writes 'woohoo' on the 2nd verse, I think you know what that means, right? Yes, my friend and I have made a AroXCaius. Has that one been done before?

More songs to come on the way!

Aro, Caius, Marcus and all the Volturi belong to Stephanie Meyer, not me!
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