They
They called it foolish
I was ignorant
They called it immaturity
I was innocent
They called it outrage
When I raised a question
They called it childishness
When I put up a question
When I was being myself
They accused me arrogant
They called me wrong
When I tried to be different
They made me speak
When I wished to be quiet
When I wanted to express
They hushed me quiet
They made me cram
What I didn't understand
They called me naïve
When I didn’t understand
I was confused about each thing they told
I couldn't follow any thing that they told
They told me about their dreams,
Their failures, their narratives
They confessed their inferiority
And desired of my superiority
Why are they so confused,
Impatient and
obsessed?
I wish to be my own real self
Not the shadow of their dreams
I wished to get a chord
Which could connect the ends,
And could bridge the gap,
The deep trench between
There is love unexpressed
There is trust umpteen.
