born to be fed on the platter of sufferings
and pain, a distressed female.
tossing and turning on the bed in darkness, hiding
the aching heart. Ignorance till when shall calm?
the turbulent sea never wanted a sea shore
full of sparkling shells. Engaging in discomfort, comfort never
gave her any credit.
laden with years of sweat, she learnt to build strong instincts
on which her trust was the only hope and freedom to be distinct.
The question isn’t who is going to let me; it’s who is going to stop me.