My mind is not my own.

It’s a mish mash of what others want me to think,
Want me to feel.
My wants,
My dreams,
My deepest desires,
I have been taught that it wrong to express these things.
I have been taught that I should stay quiet,
That I should always smile,
That if I cry no one will care,
Of worse it will lead to me being given another reason to cry.
My mind is not my own.
My mind is a cage.
It’s gold bars showing me that I will never truly be free.
You see my mind may be a gold cage,

but my home is a cold one.
And when I am free of my cold cage,
I will still be trapped in my gold one.
I can look passed these glittering bars and see a world filled with wonders,
A world so pure and joyful,
A world I am not meant to be part of.
My mind is not my own,
It my mother’s,
My father's,
My sisters and my brothers,
It’s the strangers on the street,
And the teachers in my class.
Because my thoughts do not matter, only theirs do
So what’s the point of owning my own mind?
When my thoughts are not the thoughts I should have?
what's the point of trying to be free when everyone want to break my wings?
Why bother leaving my gold cage that was made so that I may never hurt?
Why bother at all.
My mind is not my own,
And I wish it was.
I’m tired of sharing it,
I’m tired of fighting to be heard.
I’m tired of my gold cage,
I’m tired of my mind.