Apr 18
I'm always the lesson,
never the praise.
Told to be better
in quiet ways.
The words aren't cruel,
but they still land rough-
measured and weighed,
never enough.
It's in the looks
the way they compare,
like I'm just less
for even being there.
I carry the blame
for things I don't do,
swallow the doubt
until it feels true.
They don't see the cracks,
the ones they made-
all for the sake
of keeping one name safe.
I shouldn't have to earn
what should be mine-
a place, a voice,
a moment in time.
But I keep the peace,
stay small, stay still,
hoping they'll notice
I'm breaking at will.
never the praise.
Told to be better
in quiet ways.
The words aren't cruel,
but they still land rough-
measured and weighed,
never enough.
It's in the looks
the way they compare,
like I'm just less
for even being there.
I carry the blame
for things I don't do,
swallow the doubt
until it feels true.
They don't see the cracks,
the ones they made-
all for the sake
of keeping one name safe.
I shouldn't have to earn
what should be mine-
a place, a voice,
a moment in time.
But I keep the peace,
stay small, stay still,
hoping they'll notice
I'm breaking at will.
This one is more personal. I finally found out how to put the way I feel into words. What I'll say is favoritism *****; knowing you aren't enough and the people making that known being your own blood is what hurts the most. So thank you to poetry, for helping me finally release this pain and making room for some good again.
