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Contrary to what you have heard,
I’m not in a better place.
Just another place,
where couples also argue,
parents also worry about their children,
there’s also bullying in schools,
teachers also go on strikes,
car accidents also happen,
people also get sick and die.
They also dream about breaking free,
get caught up in vices,
get addicted to luck, to romance,
to their egos, to the past.
There are ugly emotions
and beautiful revolutions
and rhythms of change
and staying the same.
The tears taste the same.
The joys are the same number of
pretty colors as where you are.
There is also injustice,
but there are the heroes
who are fighting it too.
There are sacrifices, and people
who care more than most.
Sleepless nights.
Broken silences.
Held peace.
Everyone is trying hard to make it,
nobody has it easy,
we make enemies and friends
and feel alone
and overwhelmed
and get stuck
and fail at things
and get the same amount of dizzy
when the ride stops before
we are ready.

We wear different clothes,
that is all.
We cower under the sky
as if we are little. Just like you.
We try to build big things
with our hands. Just like you.
We get dazzled by lights
and exchange
pieces of who we are
for what we aim to be
and yes, sometimes we, too,
complain that the price is too high.
We are not exempt from
the common bad choices.
We need saving
just as much as you.
We love.
We want good things.
We find our voices.
We seek respite from pain.
We hope tomorrow is better.

“Urban Ballads” by photographer Jürgen Bürgin


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