They assigned us our gender at birth,
As if it were the only thing that mattered,
Those were the first shackles confined to us,
You were three when you heard the words men don't cry,
I was eight when I heard,
You are a girl you can't do that,
On and on they tied more chains to us,
We were bleeding,
Our souls were screaming,
But no words escaped our mouths,

They made fun of us when we were just kids and they were grown adults,
Teachers,
They said were your role models,
Little did they know,
Those same people that they called role models,
They added more shackles,
Shackles that were so heavy for our small bodies,
But we carried them along with every thing else,

Walking home from school,
We heard the Aunties talking behind our backs,
Some said it to our faces,
Lose some weight,
Girls aren't supposed to be tall,
Boys don't sing,
Boys are supposed to be tough,

Boys shouldn't,
Girls shouldn't,
Boys don't,
Girls don't,
That's all we heard,
We wanted to scream,
But we couldn't,

They cut our wings,
And then burnt them right infront if our very eyes,
Tears shed from those eyes,
But we were quiet,

At night when it was silent,
And everyone was asleep,
We couldn't fall asleep,
Those racing thoughts in our head,
The dreams we locked up pounded to get out,
The screams trapped inside if us,
All came at night,
You weeped ever so quietly,
That no one could hear you,
So that to anyone listening it was dead quiet,

Why you ask,
Why were we quiet,
Because they were our elders,
We expected them to guide us,
But they did the opposite,
They tied us,
Beat us,
And when we showed them the blood,
They ignored it,
They blamed us for the blood they caused,
And then they wonder why we end our lives,

Death so silent,
It reminds us of us,
We stayed quiet to keep our elders pleased,
And death so silent to keep us at ease,
But sometimes it will whisper you are free,
Only to find broken shagments of a soul that was once there