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I wasn’t the daughter you expected.
I try, though—
but you know I’m not perfect.

They call me a burden,
and some days, I believe them.
Harsh words outlive apologies;
my life feels short from carrying them all.

Maybe I was wrong.
Maybe you were happier before me.
Maybe I crossed a line simply by existing.

If that’s true, then say it plainly—
don’t leave me guessing in silence.

Because some nights, it feels like
I was born to die,
nothing more than a regret
that learned how to breathe.


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