One by one I have spent
Feelings of great degree
On you, on you, on you.
Do you even understand,
What I am trying to relate,
And the half that remains unsaid?
Writing comes naturally, they said,
Yet they tried teaching how to write!
It never helped me learn, to express myself.
I respond only when someone asks me a question
Like a humanoid built to task, emotionless and inanimate.
I still cannot write.
My language is not my own,
This, I was made to know and use
Now I remember not what my language was.
Do you know what words I called out,
When I was just a child?
They said it was gibberish, meaningless.
But that was my language, the one I was born with
I learnt it myself without any help
For it made perfect sense to me.
Then they came, with books and notes
Carefully calibrated stuff to clog my mind
To make me forget the innate divine.
I was caged to profession
Of learning, forgetting, and learning
Things that I never felt any desire for.
Now, I might be a failure, in their view
Still I deny to live like them
And give myself up to the claim, that knowledge is everything.
I am not a slave, and I believe in myself
I will know from my own experience
I will learn my way to express myself.
So I will write and come back to you
With knowledge that I have gained
To counter all that they have taught us through the time.