Take me back to the age of seven,
Where the definition of happiness was “heaven”.
Take me back to the age of six,
Where my mom would do my hair and shed my tears
When I unintentionally removed my doll’s arm
Assuming it could not be fixed.
Take me back to the age of five,
Where I thought an aeroplane was a car
That was driven up high.
Take me back to the age of four,
Where I never knew the definition and description
Of pain as I do now
And mind you the wound is still sore.
Take me back to the age of three,
Where my heart was at ease and free
Just as branches of trees.
Take me back to the age of two,
Where I used to run back and forth
As the love being thrown at me was sincerely pure.
Take me back to the age of one,
Where I used to cry my lungs our seeking attention
Unknowing I’d grow up and wish my life chapter
Could end and be done.
Take me to the moments of peace
Without asking too many questions
As if you’ve a slippery tongue that has been applied with grease.
Take me to wherever I’ll be safe,
But not as quiet as the grave,
Rather where I’ll narrate my story and be labelled as brave.