From torn sketches to lost books, it has been a tedious ride. I remember the wind in my hair and sunlight on my face as I rode my bicycle to school and the tears that ran down my cheeks because of broken things. I’ve travelled miles of years from dusk till dawn, bound to people and lines that were drawn. Freedom, a dream that once was still remains more far fetched than ever.
The letters I’ve written failed to fly; the birds that carried had no wings but mouths yet I looked up at the clouds with eyes filled with hope. The water that washed my skin refused to take my sins; the food I ate looked tastier in the plate. Thoughts remained thoughts and actions killed them; thoughts that survived massacred the will. There is no refuge when a war rages inside, I look in the mirror and sympathy dies.