The ribbons flutter away from my reach,
The boxes collapse in on themselves.
The things I long for hide in the shadows;
They seem to turn away in hate.
They refuse to come near,
Leaving me lost and searching for a reason.
I wonder: am I not good enough?
Am I so undeserving of a simple gesture?
My mind is a captive to these questions,
Circling the same dark thought for days:
Why are they so angry with me?
I wait for the day they finally reach me,
Hoping for the moment they might show love.
With tearful eyes, my heart asks the void:
"Why won't you come to me, even as a simple word?"
I am tired of the silence.
I am weary of the empty hands.
I love the magic of a gift,
The warmth of a wish on my special day.
But it feels as though the very idea of them hates me.
I never asked for gold or silver;
I only asked for the beauty of effort.
A smooth stone from the path would be enough.
A few kind words in a message would be plenty.
But the gifts whisper to me in the dark:
"You are the most undeserving soul.
No one will ever move a finger for you.
Even if you love us,
We will always turn away."
Mar 6
Mar 6, 2026 at 10:45 PM UTC
The ribbons flutter away from my reach,
The boxes collapse in on themselves.
The things I long for hide in the shadows;
They seem to turn away in hate.
They refuse to come near,
Leaving me lost and searching for a reason.
I wonder: am I not good enough?
Am I so undeserving of a simple gesture?
My mind is a captive to these questions,
Circling the same dark thought for days:
Why are they so angry with me?
I wait for the day they finally reach me,
Hoping for the moment they might show love.
With tearful eyes, my heart asks the void:
"Why won't you come to me, even as a simple word?"
I am tired of the silence.
I am weary of the empty hands.
I love the magic of a gift,
The warmth of a wish on my special day.
But it feels as though the very idea of them hates me.
I never asked for gold or silver;
I only asked for the beauty of effort.
A smooth stone from the path would be enough.
A few kind words in a message would be plenty.
But the gifts whisper to me in the dark:
"You are the most undeserving soul.
No one will ever move a finger for you.
Even if you love us,
We will always turn away."
