I said no to drugs once.
I looked a bag of **** right in the face
and, like a loving but firm father,
I said, "No."
I was really high.

Years and years ago she was all shattered,
Her heart was broken into pieces,
Each piece was a reminder related to her past.

But She survived, she pretended and she moved on.

Deep down inside her, each piece ached,
Deep down her wounds were not healing,
Every scar was telling a new story,
Every story was making her weak,

But She survived, she pretended and she moved on.

Deep down she was crying,
Screaming from the pain of never healing wounds,
She was trying to bring the broken parts back again, but scars never disappeared.

But She survived, she pretended and she moved on.

Every story inside her was leaving traces in her innocent soul,
Prints which will always make her cry from regret,
Prints which will then be a reminder of her past,
Prints which will hold her innocent soul and never leave.

But She survived, she pretended and she moved on.

We, the teens of the new era,
Are quite different.
Maybe this is just self obsession,
But whatever,
I know for sure,
That this generation is
Surely different.
We are mature more than we should be
We are childish even more.
We are not sure about our next step
Neither that our life is sorted,
At least that’s how we see it.
It is indeed puzzled.
We dream so big unlike our predecessor
And then again, at the same time we
Just want to leave the battle at the age of 16.
We are so much energetic
To think of ourselves as the next Einstein
And at the same time we are as lazy as a sloth.
We like to write carelessly
Much like me
And then again we think a lot before posting it
Thinking it wouldn’t remain as beautiful
After this moment will be gone.
But then again, I know we are so lazy
to even consider the very idea of wasting our effort
that we have put into
writing the piece.
so posting this currently,
without even considering the mistakes
that would have been commited.
Without considering
the reaction of the event.
That’s exactly how we are,
Carefree.
Jolly, happy, poetic,
Philosophical moreover.
What, I know only this much that,
We surely are DIFFERENT.

I know why the caged bird sings.

It's not because his song
is as vibrant
as his feathers, that he plucks away
each day because he doesn't
feel beautiful.

It's not because of the majesty
that exist in the freedom
of being able to spread his wings
though he knows
he'll never rise to the occasion.

He sings because he believes
that this cage
was made for a king
because he has never tasted
freedom with a side order of skies.

He's never flown past the sun
on a cool morning
or hung with the moon
on a warm night.

He's only ever known
the comfort of a prison
that his thoughts have
become accustomed
to calling home.

He would never venture
beyond the "welcome" mat
because what's beyond the threshold
holds no promise
the way these bars and metal locks do.

He sings because he knows
that no one is listening
so if he makes a mistake
he doesn't have to live with the regret
or embarrassment of knowing that he missed his note.

The caged bird
never believes that he's caged
because behind these walls
he's safe
and he prefers it this way.

I know why the caged bird sings.