She suffers from profound agony,
She suffers from an unexplainable malady,
There are hands out there to pull her back from doing her best,
She’s encircled by obstacles, which overrule her passion and zest.
The are chains to bind her back to her past,
There’s a certain ‘grace’ she must maintain till her last,
There’s always a pair of scissors to cut off her wings,
She feels far more pain as her old wounds begin to sting.
There’s a veil behind which she must hide,
There’s a code of conduct by which she must abide.
She’s supposed to be ideal, she is supposed to follow what others enforce,
She must be a slave of rules all through her life’s course.
She may not explore the myriad shades, only greys and blues,
They told her she mustn't expand her horizons and dreams, just as they blossomed and grew,
She’s like that blossoming rose, waiting for it’s beauty to be known,
She is like a little bird, out of its nest which has just flown.
She has alighted upon her flight towards the sun,
Let her fly out to the zenith for her journey has just begun,
Yes, she dares to dream for a life above years of torment,
Yes, she will fulfil her desires for this is what she has dreamt.