Two.
My eyes peer over the dreaded fence
Blocking off the rest of the room.
I hook my chubby hands on the rails
And shake the fence with all my toddler might.
All I wanted
Was to see without a playpen blocking the way.

Six.
My clammy palm shakes inside of my mother’s own
Walking across the sidewalk.
I try to run ahead
But my legs are too short.
All I wanted
Was to run without a person holding my hand.

Eleven.
My feet jog across the hallway
Trying to find a way around.
I pry myself around a group of girls
Only to pushed back against the walls.
All I wanted
Was to reach without being knocked back down.

Fourteen.
My fingers glide over the keyboard
Playing my favorite song.
I keep playing until the curtain falls once again
And I feel a smile cascaded my face.
All I wanted
Was to live.