Can I?


I laugh...

I cry...

I yell...

I love...


Does this make me perfect?

Or imperfect?


Is it my hair?

The clothes I wear?

The music I listen to?

That I rather play then be stuck in a room?


I don't want to be like the adults I see walking outside,

In their grey suits, 

Stoic faces, never smiling...


I know you want me to grow mama,

But how can I if you want me to be like everyone else?

I try to grow out my wings,and I did!

But the moment I took flight, 

An anchor pulled me back down...

Mama, can you just let me fly?


Can I be just me... 

and no one else?


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