When I cross the road,
I want to slip my hand into another
and let them guide me
through the blundering traffic.
When I finally start schooling,
I want to wake up to clothes
ironed and folded,
emboldened by prints
that I didn't choose.
I want to meet new people,
and tell them everything
in exactly my way, and anyway,
I know they'd stay.
I'll go the places they take me,
see the faces I've always seen,
and believe me, I'll be keen,
I mean, at least I'll be happy.
I have as many houses as I have fingers,
so don't tell me which is more important,
because without my fists
how will I punch the bad away?
I want to be scared of thunder
and wonder why the sky is so angry,
then marvel at the beauty of lightning
and accept the storm.
And for that,
I want to be three again.
