The faint cry of a newborn baby,
You can still hear your own if you really listen.
The first time your legs understood that their job was to carry you to the places you needed to go.
But they still can't, not really.
The very first day you went to school.
You can still almost touch the parts of your brain you kept safe from their contamination.
I trust your brain.
The first time someone called you ugly, it happened on the playground.
You had been taught to believe that you were to please other people with your appearance first, then your soul.
So you asked your mom to get you contacts, and take you to the dermatologist.
That moment you tried to impress someone who hasn't even noticed you'd changed.
That moment you were really sad.
The moment you realized that none of it even mattered.
That moment when you rediscover your passion,
That moment when you have it all figured out.
That moment it all starts crashing down.
And you are told that you are just supposed to believe that some magical being has it all figured out.
And then you let that magical being go.
You settle down,
Get a job,
Get married,
Have a child.
Teach the child to obey you, and the elders in its life.
And then one day your child says to you,
"But I thought you were happy with your life mommy."
Your child leaves home, and takes all your love with it.
You sit at home and waste away the days, just filling in gaps of time with knitting and waiting for the next time you can eat.
The squeak of your rocking chair, as it scrapes against the hard wood floor.
You can already hear it if you listen close enough.
The day the inevitable cloud comes to take you away,
My oh my,
What have you done wrong?