Nobody listens to the screams of those buried underground. What happens to the voices lost beneath the sand? Or the sounds behind the roar of the world? Do they exist past that one desperate moment of relief? Do I dare break my silence? Or let others rule my life forever? Is it wrong to change what I need from what I thought I wanted? Maybe, since I've grown as a person so has my ability to think and decide. Why is it so hard for people to understand I CAN choose for myself, that I will not always be a child requiring guidance. If a flower was forever a seed it would never bloom into a colored beauty, and be trapped within it's shell, always. I crave so desperately the taste of untainted air within bubbled freedom. Now if i could just breathe in and spread out my wings wide. But afraid of falling, I never prepare for flight. I wish there was a ray of light guiding me, a hand that let me take it along for the ride instead of making me follow it. Can't these restrainers be my courage instead? When will I see hope? I wait.
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