We each live our own truth, Spun by minds different as can be. History shapes our perceptions, Neurons firing with altered chemistry. Yet the emotions we all feel, Are as kindred as can be. Borne from the same condition, Etched in the rubric of humanity. The first time Joy of a child, Smelling a freshly bloomed rose. Or the melancholy of an old man Reminiscing his deceased love's ghost. The fury of a woman, shown her body doesn't belong to her. Or the courage of girl, Breaking free from the m...