Burdens of being a child


Ma tells stories of her days gone by
Running through fields, chasing butterflies

When school was but a place to learn
And evenings were meant for memories to earn

When Playing in the mud Was a quality endowed
And nicks and scraps were trophies to be proud

Cycle tyres were hotwheel cars to be raced with friends
And school bag was but a tiffin with yummy homemade snack and a slate


Perched on her lap, these fairytales I hear

I run too but not through fields and butterflies they say are extinct

I race against time with my bonnie eight year old feet
So that all my competition I can  defeat

School is not just a place to learn
But a little factory for me , into perfect citizen turn

Smart class, robotics, e-learning and cyborg – my memories make
Child safe playground and sanitised sandpits give wounds a little fake

Ride to school in ac buses take effort to stay awake
And the weight of knowledge stuffed in my bag lets my backbone break

Chained to my desk I watch the birds take flight


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