but I was just too tired having to collect wood from the
nearby forest where
at least I could calm my declining mood hearing the birds
dedicate their
morning song to me as I silently cry for lost hours in a home
not fit for
even a dimwit like me, as I am reminded every day by him
and her – I
cannot even remember the last time they hugged me,
cradled me, comforted me.
Captured Dreams – Even though my waking hours are
verbal darts piercing
my fragile heart, I sometimes have a rare opportunity to
have a peek at the
world outside from my small room – The tiny glass pane my
iron fence prison
not meant to liberate my growing mind but at least I can
give a lonely wave to
imaginary friends who are not allowed here, so I just stare
at their childhood
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