Aren’t we lost, in others world?
Imagination clipped, to be the acceptable one.
Colored and picturesque were my dreams,
The girl in me would choose to sing,
Dream to fly and dance in stars,
My world was to try whatever I want.
Then I was diagnosed,
With ailment of “stereotype”,
The factory in which I stepped in,
Made a machine out of me.
5 years of education,
I was certified, fit for utilization.
The girl who dreamed sang, and danced,
Was lost in the melancholy world of chaos;
Nothing makes sense, everyone knows,
Yet drudging the safe trail of work.
I try to flap myself out,
But society’s aspirations nail me down.
Yet the bird in me wishes to sing,
Perhaps, the next dawn will strengthen me,
Assist in fighting the odds,
Make the girl, I once was.
Comments
Post a Comment