I stand today, with a bewildering feeling in my heart. For years, my internal battle took a hold on me. As if that was not enough, it decided to take an external form. My identity parted ways, it was ripped off me. I sit in the dark corner of my room, contemplating my own thoughts. I don't need anyone to question me. They can never question my contorting self, more than I do. People talk proudly in their luxury, their privileged chambers- they sit there but have no significant words to speak. 

My brothers and sisters have been out in the streets, raging. Our voices echo, waking the earth from its slumber. And it is still not thunderous enough to break through the padded walls of those who push us down.