Poem

Some stories came, some went,

Some glorified, some diminished,

Some just turned old, some still refresh,

Some stood with time, some oppressed.

Beneath these stories, beneath these different dimensions,

Lived a silent spectator, whose beautiful eyes were deafening,

Oppressed by the children of the same mother,

Where the desire for freedom meant war,

Where different labels come free, but self-worth is hard to achieve.