My parents say they don't pick favorites,
That's a bunch of bullshit,
And I say it doesn't bother me,
But it bothers me more than I like to admit.
My brother is the image of perfection,
At least as a son,
And me being his sister,
This is no fun.
He's the one with all the medals,
The active one.
And for me up the stairs,
Is the longest I've ever run.
He's never eats too much,
He is very thin.
While I lose ten pounds,
And still have a double chin.
He enjoys everything,
Never a single pout.
While I'm constantly scared,
My mind filled with doubt.
He plays guitar you know,
Played it for the talent show.
Well I play piano at least,
Just very, very slow.
He never talks back,
He learned to agree.
I'm sorry that I stand up for my beliefs,
That's just me.
I'm not sure who I'm mad at.
My parents or my brother.
But I just wish they could understand,
That every time they say they love me,
They don't love me.
They love a girl who is trying to be someone she's not.
I'm tired of being compared,
He's not who I want to be,
And I'm fine with myself usually,
I just wish you would be fine with me.
YOU ARE READING
Poems for the Lonely
PoésieSometimes I need ways to express my feelings and I do this through poetry. I am not at all the best poet in the world (not even close) but I just thought I would share them with you. Stay beautiful.
