There was a pond at the end of the alley.
It was not one with the prettiest waters,
The water hardly reflected the sky,
But it was a heaven for people in search of solitude.
Solitude from fingers pointed upon.
Solitude from the world with loathing eyes.
Solitude from being called ‘unnatural’.
Solitude from being different in the flock.
Under that water was a secret biome,
It led to a world.
It was better than the world above its waters.
Not many people preferred to get near those waters.
It was tabooed,
or so they thought.
But it was as real as them,
As real as the rest of the world.
A few people like her,
Found themselves there.
They all came.
Together in unity,
Though a minority,
Against the world.
Now many left that place,
Where they once found acceptance.
For now they are free birds, free to fly in the same sky as the world.
But this place still welcomes people.
Who wonders why they have wings different from the flock.
Who questions themselves, time and again.
This place always welcome people,
In search of their true self.
To tell them they are unique, but not different.