In this maddening crowd chained with too many shackles,
her rebel spirit crumbles a little.
How long would it be before
dusk would give way to dawn!
Tired of the melodramatic pangs and the speedbreakers
that intersperse every alley
She wonders if she will ever sail on waters
that would take her home
It’s been a while since the times
the winds rushed through the unkempt hair
Oh you gypsy soul!
Why do you seek the home you grew
when the spirit is meant to be set free!
From dust we come to dust we go,
yet the heart craves to hold
The rugged remains of yesterday
because what are we but stories!
Nostalgia plays foul one more time
It is the rebel’s strongest muse
When the ticking clock scowls at the gypsy soul
Reminding that even the stars are going to sleep
Nostalgia whips up another tale
A fresh muse and a new prose
But those heavy eyelids refuse to drop
Shedding tears of remembrances
Societal norms, flawed logic
When shall you grow up big messy world
The gypsy soul of the little rebel
Seeks the home amidst the shackled confines
One more time,
One more time.