We sing longer than anyone else.
Our voices echo on the winds of time.
We remember our lives by wistful dances.
But our melodies fade into the storms of the world.
As our voices wither,
We are told we won’t be heard.
As our convictions dwindle,
We are left answering questions no one asked.
As our poetry dissolves,
We are removed from the grace of the world.
And they tell us we don’t exist
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