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When I was a girl with ribboned dreams,
I saw myself on TV screens.
A mic in hand, a voice so clear,
Telling stories the world would hear.

I loved the sound of words I spoke—
Not for praise, or selfish hope,
But because each word I dared to say
Meant I was real, in some small way.

But life, it shifts like winds at sea,
And dreams drift far from what they seem.
I didn’t stand where anchors shine;
Another road became mine.

In campus halls where young hearts burn,
A civic space—a chance to learn.
Voices flying, full of fire,
Debates like storms, opinions higher.

I raised my hand with steady grace,
Then panic came to take its place.
My voice shook, my breath grew thin,
I battled fear that screamed within.

And though I spoke, the shame ran deep—
It followed me into my sleep.
I wondered why the fear felt loud—
Why being heard now felt like doubt.
Then back I went, through memory’s door,
To school days I had felt before:
I loved to speak, to dream, to lead—
But every answer came with need.

They mocked me when I knew too much,
Called me names for rising up.
"Pick me girl," they'd hiss and jeer,
Till I learned silence hides the fear.

So I grew quiet, watched the wall,
Avoided crowds, avoided calls.
Tiptoed halls with cautious care,
Hid the spark I used to wear.

By A-levels, I’d disappeared—
A ghost that walked, a girl unclear.
And even then, I heard them say,
“She thinks she’s better, anyway.”

All I wanted was to shine,
To make my mother proud in time.
But photos fade from those long years,
And memories blur with silent tears.

When uni came, I made my choice—
No cameras now, no lifted voice.
Mass Comm, I feared, would pull me in,
So I stayed safe, I stayed within.

But that forum sparked a quiet light,
And so I signed up overnight—
A small training, just a test,
To see if maybe I could still be my best.
They said I had a gift to give,
A voice that made the stories live.
For a while, I held that dream again,
Until fear called me back,
like a friend.

I moved behind the scenes once more,
Telling tales I didn’t store.
Framing others, hiding mine—
It felt easier, felt just fine.

Now I work where young hearts rise,
Where girls still reach for bigger skies.
And when they speak with heads held high,
I see the me I left behind.
They’re bold, unshaken, full of flame,
And sometimes, they call out my name—
“I want to be like you one day.”
I smile, but don't know what to say.

For they remind me of my truth,
The dream I lost inside my youth.
Each time they speak, I heal a part
Of what I buried in my heart.

Though shadows still may pull me back,
I walk ahead, stay on the track.
For that young girl who dreamed so wide,
For every tear she had to hide.

And yes—
I still want to be heard.
Even now.
Even when it hurts.
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