I tried searching for happy in my poetry
But the cracks in all my broken is preventing me
I tried creating, mixing words, trying to create joy out of it
But it felt like pretending
And pretending is just another excuse for me
To cover up my misdemeanors and misdeeds
I never became a rightful daughter
I’ve seen looks of disappointment and deplore
I’ve heard words that scarred me permanently
So I pretend to ignore
I never became a sister worth dying for
but I’ve seen her stood up,  just because she’s told
because she was three years earlier in our mother’s womb
so I pretend I don’t need hands to hold
I’ve never been a truthful friend
I’ll just drive them away if I became
I tried once, hoping they’ll accept me for who I am
But I was thrown outside the circle I made for them
So I pretended to be someone even I can’t fully understand

And now I tried to be in truth and bliss
And I failed, once again.