"Underneath We're All The Same"

He prayed, it wasn't my religion.
He ate, it wasn't what I ate.
He spoke, it wasn't my language.
He dressed, it wasn't what I wore.
He took my hand, it wasn't the color of mine.
But when he laughed, it was how I laughed,
and when he cried, it was how I cried.

- Amy Maddox, "Underneath we're all the same."