Tiptoe through a field of eggshells,
For fear of finding shards of glass
That sting and cripple and fell
The clumsy giants who walk so rash...
Behind every corner, every word,
Lies some hurt soul's triggers -
Would that I could fly like a bird
To avoid these social taboo rigors...
Would that I lived on an Earth
Where folks did not lash out and hurt
Those who came from a different birth -
Perhaps, there, we'd all soar like birds.
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