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Girl are born. But not every time they are lucky enough to live. Many a times they are killed by their families who were expecting a boy child. 
This poem captures dreams of a girl child. Her dream revolves around getting love, affection, acceptance from her parents but these dreams can never be fulfilled. Her destiny has something else in store for her. 

                                    Poem – My stupid little Dreams.
                             (Some dreams are never meant to be fulfilled)


My dream is to be born cuddling in my mother’s arms and staring in her eyes,

My dream is spending my childhood hopping in my father’s lap,
My father tickling me until I cry out of joy,

My dream is feeling my mother’s soft tender lips, as she kisses me wishing me
goodnight,

My dream is enjoying weekends hopping on my father’s back;
As he play a horse and I a brave knight,

My dream is to fall down, bruise my leg and watch my mother rushing out for me,

My dream is spending endless nights sitting beside my father,
His hands coiled around my neck, re-living my favorite bedtime stories,

My dream is treading on roads shimmering with sun rays escaping from canopy of trees that leads nowhere,

My dream is racing down endless streets crowded with people; teeming with life;
Happiness, fervor and excitement spread everywhere,

My dream is to live, prosper and watch all these and thousand other dreams come true,

But I won’t live long enough, so bye-bye dreams; I bid you adieu,

I have committed a sin, as grave as a crime,

My family needed a boy, but I am born a girl child,

My dreams, my wishes will stay alive with me till I am in my mother’s womb,

Seconds after I am born; they will travel with me to my final destination – my own personal tomb.

If born; No respect, no acceptance would have been the saga of my life,

Thanks to my father, he saved me, by taking my life.

No time for my dreams, I died paying for my sins,

Once born; I was send on a long vacation in some local dustbin.

I was born like a flower that could bloom and thrive

But I was plucked as a bud, never allowed to ripe,

Not only me there are thousands more lying in rains,

Moaning in pain, their blood gushing down the drains,

No more dreams, no more wishes just one cry,

O God! It’s enough. Please no more girl child.
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