The strength I never choose...

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.