I once believed in limits,
Concrete walls that hemmed my sight,
A world that pressed me, shaped me,
Telling me what’s wrong and right.
“Be this, not that,” the voices said,
“Color inside the lines, instead.”
And so, I shrank into the mold,
A version of myself, half-told.

But deep inside, a whisper stirred,
A flicker faint, a quiet word.
Imagination, boundless, wild—
The inner spark of every child.
It asked me, “Why?” with daring grace,
“Why not roam beyond this place?
Why not dance where none have seen,
Chase a life that’s yet to be?”

In a world of echoing same,
I felt the weight, the constant shame—
Of being different, out of tune,
A lonely star against the moon.
But different is the sacred key
That opens doors to what could be.
And limits? They’re just fragile seams,
Dissolving in the light of dreams.

I broke the walls, I painted skies
In shades unseen by common eyes.
I ran through fields of untouched thought,
And found the freedom I had sought.
For sameness is a hollow sound,
A loop, a circle tightly wound.
But being different—being true—
Is where the universe breaks through.

So here I stand, unmarked by fear,
In a world that never knew I was here.
And yet I feel the pulse, the glow,
Of all the places I could go.
Because the limits, they were lies—
The truth lives only in our skies.