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A decade and a half ago,
Esperanza was just a chicken,
born with a limp.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Her chicken-mates bullied her:
beak pokes to the neck,
until the feathers fell.
Esperanza developed neck alopecia<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I took Esperanza in the basket
of my old bicycle,
along with three rabbits
with incurable diseases,
and rode all the way to Rotterdam.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
There was a farm for underprivileged species.
I gave Esperanza some pocket money
and said farewell.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Fifteen years passed.
I haven’t heard from Esperanza
until one evening, on the TV,
I saw she had flourished.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
After arriving at Handicapped farm,
scarred by the cruelty of bullying,
but equipped by the true self-determination,
Esperanza wrote a new story:<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She worked hard,
laying an egg every day,
filling the farm with limping chickens.
But only Esperanza had neck Alopecia,
and neck scars.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The other animals only saw the empire.
The new generation believed:
all chickens were born with a limp,
and that heroes have neck alopecia.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The old generation said Esperanza was just lucky
she got some pocket money.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The limping chickens saw a role model.
They all shaved the feathers on their necks,
and tattooed there scars,
just like mother-Esperanza.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And this was the story
written by Esperanza.<\/p>\n\n\n\n