Hope I could've swung at the branch of the trees, feeling the breeze of air and sun's breath through my skin; or ran along a field with my little feet along with an endless possibilities.

Could've held my little hand and led me to the path my feet desired to be.
Yet your hands were bigger than mine; for you are the creator, and I am just the Adam you carved to escape your horror.

Maybe if you loosen the grip that's pressed so tightly, and freed me from the chain of responsibilities you coerced myself to be;

Maybe, just maybe, could I swing at the branch of trees and ran with my feet and feel the breath of air and sun's breath rushing through my skin, and fulfill even the slightest possibility.