Tacenda ( A collection of poems )

1.

Hey Maa, can you come pick me up?

I am scared, I am tired,

I am so damn screwed up in my head,

I can't put up with this anymore.

They ask me to mold,

When all you taught me was to

Walk with my head high,

When I am so damn right,

When I feel so damn light.

They ask me to be like the rest,

And not be my own,

To endure,

to pursue their carved dreams

When you taught me,

How to carve my own dreams,

How to gather my own wings,

And how to fly with

Spreading those wings.

So why Maa, they keep saying

I am a failure.

Where was the standard set for it?

Why is it that if I am not like them,

Securely a different being,

They told me I am wrong?

You never taught me that

Being different is wrong.

You told me being different

Is a gift of my own.

That everyone is different on their own,

So why Maa they called me a disdain,

When I don't fit in,

When I argue I don't want to?

You told me

Everything will be fine.

But when Maa?

Please come

Hug me.

I am scared.

I am exhausted.

Nothing makes sense here, Maa.

They are torturing me, Maa.

The ropes around my throat are tightening, The wires around my heart are pressing closer,

I am bleeding, I am wounded,

But I don't know how to tend to them, Maa. Please come pick me up.

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