They Always Told Me

They always told me to embrace the pink walls and curtains,

But my heart forever clung to the dark tint,

They stipulated me to fall in love with the straight bodies suited up,

But I always got blown away by the long hairs falling on the curvy bosoms,

They latched me in prisons of loose collarless garment draped around my bulges,

But I was eager to fly around in tight shirts and trousers,

They pierced my ears, kneaded bright colors on my lips,

But I craved for not-messy-short hairs and whiskers on my face,

They coerced me to let him touch my curves and intimacies,

But I dreamt of kissing those wet lips and embracing the wonders of her body,

And when I wanted to be myself, they locked me up and cursed me down,

Does admiring for lady love being a maiden was a misdeed?

Or being prisoned by high walls, killing my freedom because of my choice of love was virtuousness?