Flipping through the old diaries,
Reading out the old poems;
Listening to the old voices,
I feel nostalgic.
Helpless I feel
sometimes to such an extent
That the very word seems
to be trivial to me.
I swear I always tried
till there were tears in my eyes,
and I know I could not make anyone believe
what my life has always meant to me.
I was never born to oblige
the whims and expectations of everyone alive;
I was not born trapped in a shell
choked and stuffed, unknown to self.
I was born a free soul
arrogant, stubborn and joyful;
I was made to fly across the world
alas, before I could fly, I was tied.
Tied with strings of affection
too weak to pull too strong to break,
Buried under the burden of expectations
too light to lift too heavy to remove.
I wonder how I survived
is known only to my heart and mind,
But the only thing I now realize
is that I deserve to have my share of the pie.
I need to prove,
and let not anyone surmise
That I have a beating heart and a pair of dreaming eyes,
I, too, need to share my laughter and come to life.