Birds of paradise

From childhood we are told to fit into boxes
Full of hypocrisy, biases and deadly toxic gases
Contrived replicable templates, with all sides squared
A merged wrapped identity, all of us shared

Cramped in my thoughts, restrained in my jacket
I tried to think outside this flower bracket
One day with my arms out, I stood up and stretched
Went from the Messiah, the angel to the devil, disgusting and wretched.

Names they called me, yet I didn’t let my soul die
But time and again they curbed my attempts to fly
I look to you with a final desperate cry
Set me free and see me soar high

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Back to the future

High on adrenaline. High on life
I can’t seem to remember the time I was low.
Buzzing with thoughts. Crazily creative.
Was this the same mind, that was once slow?

Maybe it was a farce.
A ploy. An act for attention.
The pain, the sadness, the depression
Nothing more than an illusion

Buzzing with energy like a queen bee
Am excited, happy and wild.
Don’t worry, I’ll be back soon
From within, cried the depressed little child.