There Is No Hierarchy Of Oppressions

... It Is Not Difference Which Immobilizes Us, But Silence.

Some Words Live In My Throat Breeding Like Adders. Others Know Sun Seeking Like Gypsies Over My Tongue To Explode Through My Lips

Silence Has Never Brought Us Anything Of Worth.

Somedays, If Bitterness Were A Whetstone, I Could Be Sharp As Grief.

So It Is Better To Speak, Remembering We Were Never Meant To Survive.