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!