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I tend to forget that my parents were children once.
That like me, they had goals and ambitions and dreams
far larger than themselves once.
That they too heard the oh so familiar,
“Get good grades, work hard and no relationships until
18” once.

I tend to forget that my parents were children once.
They too were bound by rules and regulations
that did not fit their expectations of their idea of
freedom and self preservation.

I tend to forget that my parents were children once.
That they too faced abuse, violence and
toxic environments that shaped them.
And like me, all they wanted was a way out
from the one place they called home.

I tend to forget that my parents were children once,
so before i go and get all belligerent,
and blame them for the trauma and depression,
I should remember that they too had their innocence
stripped from them and like me,

They were children once.
Imtiaz Ahmed Apr 17
I feel like I'm stuck in a world full of strangers.
Invisible to everyone I meet,
Visible to everyone I haven't met.
Living in a land, somewhere in between,
waiting to return.

I crave for that familiar connection.
You know it all too well,
that instantaneous, gravity defying,
tear inducing, stomach turning,
gasping for air like someone has stolen your lungs,
smile for no reason,
the fuse being lit for that
spark
of a connection.

But yet when I make myself visible,
make myself vulnerable,
lay myself open,
as if I were on the operating table,
It's still not enough.
Even ripped open, I seem to find no cable of spark,
no artery or vein of connection.

Yet I am hopeful that someone will come along,
and take up residency,
put the gloves on and pick up the scalpel,
and transplant themselves into my soul,
return me from limbo,
and give me a way out.

Perhaps then,
I won’t be
stuck in a world full of strangers.

— The End —