I was wild and free once upon a time
a child with time and rhymes
but my parents can’t listen
just thought of me being bad
curbing my behaviour
they couldn’t be my saviours
I went quiet wanting to start a riot
It could have gone two different ways
but life strays on to one path
the aftermath of which
made me a background poet
my poetry is the ink I bleed
from wounds I don’t need
My parents need me to be their counsellor
but I can’t
I just can’t…
cycles can be broken
when loves awoken
but sometimes I want to fight back
to see the crack
of light through the walls.