My life is a raptured tray,
Which I designed with a frisky clay.
Not enough freedom I got as it may,
Ignored such trifles and all negative say.
I’m born with potential; ‘m born to sway,
Why all want to direct me in their way?
‘M born with ideas please trust my byway,
But as always I feel at bay.
It matters not how sophisticated is my day,
I have not winced nor cried anyway,
‘M born with wings not to crawl but to wave,
I am the master of my Soul and Play.