Tied at eight

A cute tiny kitten,

As cute as it can get,

Her lashes curtains her winks,

As feminine as it can get,

Grace and oomph filled catwalk,

The tail follows the rhythm

And she jumps over the barricade,

A small one of course,

To unite with her sibs and folks,

They jump with joy,

Tour around their stern faced mother,

Their joy ain’t limited to them,

It transcends,

Makes me feel good,

Makes me feel free,

Which I am supposed to be,

At age five plus three.

But I am laden with a baggage

On my back,

A timetable,

A chess class, a swimming class,

An abacus class.

I want to be like that kitten, carefree,

Not like a rat

In this pseudo-success rat race.

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