Written by Vanshika Srivastava
All they see is the flowers on my head,
The halo marking the reviver of death.
But when it’s time to laugh with your friends,
Was my address lost at your desk?
All I do is hear,
These pretty flights they steer,
My silence marked as my countenance
For once
I just want to get rid of the extra frill I wear.
For once
I just want to shout and scream,
I want to say what I truly mean.
All the cakes and fancies are beneath me.
I don’t want to hear, I don’t want to know
I honestly am tired of your callings
Even I need a chance to be
able to swiftly share my stories.
For once I want to glide through all the grace
Mark my strengths, hit the stage.
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