The only path I was given was strength-
a cloak too heavy for a child\'s shoulders.
Each time I longed for comfort,
I was handed phrases like stones:
\"You are strong, you can bear it\"
But when my heart ached for warmth,
it was chilled.
When I begged to be understood,
I was taught to understand.
When I reached for arms,
I touched only air.
When I cried for love,
they called it weakness.
Now the child within me,
who never tasted childhood,
Plays with tiny joys
-collects giggles like seashells,
clings to moments like fireflies in jars.
Yet they call me immature.
Tell me-
is maturity nothing but silence?
A seriousness carved into stone?
Is it standing alone in the dark,
with no promise of love?
If so,
let me remain a child.
For innocence is the only strength that still keeps me alive.