On what you believe,
Not because of the season,
But because it's time to leave,
Your shell of unawareness,
Of what's happening around,
Not because of your age,
But because of the sounds,
Of the whispers now rising,
Above the din of exchange.
Do you hear what they are saying,
About the way we all are made,
To believe that it's alright,
That we really have no say,
About how the world views what we do,
Each and everyday?
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