When I was young and feet were used for crawling,
With little palms and tiny toes,
The age of no despair and no foes,
The joy that I could feel while being tossed in the air,
Even though for not very long, I felt free.
When I was young and words were starting to make sense,
Rhyming syllables and non-existing words,
Which only my mum could comprehend,
People would laugh at those mispronounced words,
Yet I would blabber with zero regrets,
Because even though for not very long, I felt free.
When I was young and crying on my first day to school,
I didn’t know the world, I didn’t know a person beyond my family,
Unknown faces and fear of being alone instilled in me as I entered the gate,
Trying to understand the abc of not only the language but also of life,
Dumb me did not even know that this might be the beginning of the end
Of the very freedom I talk about,
Dumb me did not even realize that it was the eventual fate.
When I was young and restrictions on expressing were imposed,
I used to be scared from the repercussions,
Repercussions of expressing your love to a boy,
Will he ruin me? Will they forbid me from going to school?
Thoughts recurring in my head,
filled with questions or majorly delusions,
I could feel, even though for a little while, I was no more free.
When I was young and emoting ceased to be an option,
When I realized that I am more than a caged soul,
When dealing with the reality and individuality became a daily routine,
I knew that if I wanted freedom, only and only I had the key.
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