This poem is about how I feel when I talk with my western sisters and get to know them. I know we are different. They swim in the ocean of success; we are sunk in the ocean under the same sky. We are not different but different. Yes, different. They can choose what they want in life. We Afghan women are treated as a cloth, a second-hand piece of material. 

We look the same
We have one name
Everywhere, we are women 

I am tall as you
But I am full of pain
While you are full of joy
My face is red for I am beaten
Your face is red from your wonderful day 

There is a world of difference
Between me and you
My western sister
Not only because I have black hair
And you have yellow 

You smell like roses
I have the smell of bread
I compare you and me while I am in the kitchen
And see you with your laptop 

Every night I search streets for freedom
Counting the moments until my release
From the prison of barbarism
Every day you are a guest of sunshine
And I am under the tent, under the burqa, in a cage

There is a world of difference
Between me and you
My western sister

By Norwan