I entered my room despondently
and bolted the door behind me.
I tried walking to my bed
but then my legs gave in
as I slid down against the door
down to the floor.
Then the tears came pouring down
along with it memories of the recent
dispute with my parents
that drove me running to my room.
"Why can't you just be like your siblings?"
the incensed and disappointed voice of my
father came drifting in the memories.
"Why are you so different from
everyone in the family?"
echoes, the concerned and tear-driven voice
of my mother.
And everytime, every single time
I wish to reply them, but words
are lost, silenced, and even ignored.
I yearn to ask them who it is
that defined that I be like the rest
and walk the same path they tread;
who it is that defined I can't be different.