What if you meet your eight year old self today?
What will you tell her?
Will you warn her of future?
Without a pause, I’d wrap her in my arms.
Narrate the tale of a girl
who’s a lot like her.
But will she recognize herself
When she looks at my face?
The untamed world; I try and hide in
The dark circles beneath my eyes.
There’d be joy in her naive smile
To give it back, I’d walk the long mile.
A silent plea, dances on my lips
too scared to be voiced;
Because my eight year old self believes,
this world can be nice.
Those innocent eyes,
too tender to make a choice;
‘Tis a harsh World, takes life as a sacrifice
Every choice has a price
So, little one, think twice!
Do I fly or stand still?
Am I a dreamer or a cynic?
Am I liberated or utterly repressed?
This exquisite discontent,
of lost innocence!
There will be people, flicking through your pages.
A judging world will
Tell you a begrudging tale
Of love, betrayal and hypocrisy.
I might want to give up and when I want to,
She’s the one I would look up to.