A thought of the young
I,
Born to live amongst expectations,
Competitions,
And sorrows known to none other,
But me.
I'd wish for some reprieve, but I'm trapped in cage,
As bird with its wings tied,
Stopped of soaring through the sky.
Higher and higher, I wish to go, As if my will will make the chains would disappear.
The chains are locks with many keys.
A chain of soft fabric, fluffy yet tight.
Protecting me,
Yet withholding me,
From reaching my full potential.
Intention
Such a terrible thing
Multi-faceted in many ways.
Oh the pain that it gives yet the care that it shows.
Remember your parents aren't perfect.
In a child’s world
As I grow beneath the glittering sun
The dark clouds roam
Waiting to pounce
When will it all stop
The never-ending rain that drowns me
The snow that buries me in expectations.
How will I grow, when they won't let me.
Inside of me a small seed is blossoming
Blooming from under this treacherous place
That won't allow a single embrace
Until it succeeds and is able to pull through
But by then it will be too late.
I