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.