Sometimes, I'm being called fake.
Other times, I'm tagged as a fool.
A boring weirdo, a mistake.
Yes, maybe I'm wrong, and you're true.
Maybe I should try to play cool.
You still call me a sick loser, a dump.
I'd never say a word to you or call you a grump.
Without even realizing it, I'd accept it.
Because you're my parent, my lover, my friend.
Shouldn't you be my supporter till the very end?
It's so sad that I just realized.
That your definition of me isn't me.
It won't get me better, it won't make me see.
And because I'm Imperfect doesn't mean I'm hopeless.
Because I accept you, doesn't mean I'm senseless.
Everyone is special in their way.
You may not see that, today.
YOU ARE READING
The Light In Me
PoetryThe first page of a new anthology I hear the sound of my favorite words Like art, music and photography. I see the footprints of my past and thoughts. Feeling of excitement from my fingertips The words of understanding from my bare lips. I can'...
