Let me tell you about a woman.
She’s considered weird because she doesn’t throw dirt on the road.
Weird because she stands in the middle of the street to look how the sky is beautiful, to breathe because air is fresh and healing.
She tries every time to break the chains but people want her to be straight.
She wants to raise her voice but they cover her mouth.
She’s not weak, she’s oppressed but never give up.
She lives in a world of wolves but wolves can be commode.
I’m this woman and I’m happy to be weird.