A sound is a uniform pattern of audible vibrations.
The one that was created when…
The cup full of tea
fell on the floor
from his hand
Or
When the fat tea-seller
slapped the little boy
for having dropped
the cup full of tea
Or
When the little boy
fell thereby hitting
his forehead on the floor
and letting out 
a stream of blood
Or
When I stood up
took out my revolver
and shot the fat man
at the forehead
exactly where the
little boy was hurt
Or
When the fat *******
fell on the ground
and died 
but
not at once
since the bullet
missed the ******
by a whisker.
A noise is an inconsistent pattern of audible vibrations.
The one that was created when…
An ambulance 
and a police car
arrived together
at the scene
of crime.
[Café 65 is the name of the tea-stall where I met the first person of this piece of work, one fine evening]

Once upon a time there was a group of birds
They had traditions and very strict rules
They all lived in a tree and never left it
Because if one flew away, they would be seen as a freak

There was one little bird
At first he seemed to be like the others
But in reality, he had a dream
He wanted to escape the tree

He told his mommy about it but she scolded him,
Saying he should stay here as this is as it's supposed to be.
The little bird got sad but had to obey the rules
Over time he got older

The other birds liked him a lot
But one day he declared that he's leaving and no one can stop him.
In that moment, the birds forgot about his good qualities, talents
And started hating him

The little bird started to get bullied
Mocked
He just wanted to dissapear
He regretted his words

Months passed and it was time,
The day he was supposed to fly away
But the little bird wasn't there to experience his new found freedom
The other birds pushed him over the edge way too soon.

So they say:
I am diseased
because I’m different.
I am disgusting,
for I am distinct.

I am a widow on the wall,
a cockroach in the kitchen.
I am stubbed within the sand,
gouged into the grass.
You hold me in your index,
and huff me out your mouth,
for I, the English cigarette;
am a sickness in your lungs,
and the cancer beneath your feet.

I am black,
I am bubonic,
I am a plague.

They seem to fear my spread,
yet, I am pushed, I am prodded,
I am pummeled down to bone,
for I, the English cigarette;
am extinguished by your touch,
a light, and lifeless ****,
an easy target
caught between your malice
and the cruelty of your words.

Going through the motions
Holding your peace at hand
Until I passed down by you
And you chose to take a stand
Enraged at my choices
Your words came tumbling like sand
Chasing me up
Until you were assured command
But surprise surprise
Your words' intended target rebound
And I, in my subconscious' control, withstand
Words leaving my mouth
Unplanned
Stranger ignored to
Stranger unmanned
Unable to raise your gaze to where
Your ego cannot expand
You leave
And I take in the situation so I don't misunderstand
It was not my actions but
The way I was dressed that had me ******
Cursed, directed animosity at
But you reached me at a point at which
I don't care - and
Looking at you I question why you
Forgot to look at the mirror; tanned Complexion making you and me
No different
And yet you choose self-hatred
And I won't be weaker.
Choose your own battles
For I fight mine quicker.
Won't find me fallen
Because I set the pace with vigor.
Too many a times I've faced your kind;
You're not the first and
You're not the last,
Going through your lot
Will eventually become like
Breathing air.
Choose your battles
If you dare.

This is not what I want to feel
Not what I want at all,
Not when my heart beats softly
Asking for a little warmth.

I've wished I was a boy my whole life.
To get respect without demanding it.
To walk in a room and be part of the club.
To not be seen as an outsider, an irritant.

I loathed that I was treated differently.
I worked my entire life to get here,
believing that it would get better
with the fancy title and, finally, the career.

Now, I've made it. Yet, I still have to demand:
To be seen. To be CC'd on emails. To not be
excluded. Do you know how difficult it is
to have the right title, but not the right genitalia?

You can be competent, intelligent,
the smartest in the room.
But if you aren't the ideal gender,
You're just a pretty face in costume.