When you ask me of my dreams, 
I’ll remember those times
The walls to which were strong and shut. 
And there was I
Banging loud.
I’ll hear all those curses
About the useless child I am.
I’ll see the way you mock
As I utter the words I love. 
I’ll feel the crushing pain-
And the struggle to move ahead. 
When you ask me of my dream,
Many years from now,
I may smile and caress my throne
With the eyes in which sparks
A never ending fire.


Shima Muhammed

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