The frisking little legs are now coerced to amass pegs
Even nature started to wince, thinking of a way to evince
The scribbling hands could no longer pretend
The fondle yearning fingers were no longer tender
The enthusiastic minds were squiggled into binds
Hindered by the obstacles obliging them not to ignore
Their dreams couldn’t do miracles anymore
Carrying books became their covet but hauling stones made it depart
The impoverished look from their fatigued eyes
Aren’t these competent to thaw this stoned impertinence?
The sweet lips don’t even know to spell or even chat inflow
All they crave is only for the exuberant childhood
The playful moments and the emancipated ambiance
Where their millennial cherubic desires will never be boxed
And where their infantile etiquettes will be left to waft in their flow!