It is easier to see differences (poem)

Tears make their way down his face

while in solitude he trembles,

having been deemed ‘other’, the boy

was excluded from the human experience.

Something runs through him, a questioning

of that admiration for adults he was imbued with,

those adults who ran this world, those words were theirs.

At all times, there is a face wet with tears, somewhere.

Tears make their way down his sister’s face,

she places her head on his shoulder, a ready pillow.

The tears and the trembling have scarcely subsided.

The cycle of demarcation must end,

consolation is not consolation.

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