To suffer
To tolerate all the harsh words
To do what others say.

To hide my tears
To swallow my words
To lower my gaze to the ground.

That is what I am allowed.

I am not allowed choices
Or a voice
Or my own decisions

I live like a machine
Others hold the remote control.
My emotions and desires have been killed
My identity, my personality, my existence, my education
Have no value

Why? Why? Why?
A voice whispers in my ear:
In our land
The sun is sentenced for its light
Because it is believed that lightness is a crime.

By Emaan

Photo by Martien Van Asseldonk