In the family portrait, a shadow stands,
A figure carved by critical hands,
Labelled the disappointment, the one who fell,
In a narrative where only success can dwell.
The dinners are silent, the air is tense,
Every word weighed, every gesture immense,
For the one who strayed from the charted course,
Who followed the heart, not external force.
The eyes that once shone with pride and glee,
Now turn away, refusing to see,
The beauty in the path less trod,
The strength in the journey, flawed but broad.
The whispers are sharp, like thorns on a rose,
The comparison a chain, the judgment it sows,
For being the dreamer, not the achiever,
The one who's different, the non-believer.
Yet, in the quiet of the disappointment's soul,
Lies a spirit unbroken, a heart that's whole,
For though the world may not understand,
The worth of a life not going as planned.
The stars still shine for the one who dares,
To live a life that's uniquely theirs,
For in every mistake, there's a lesson learned,
In every failure, a victory earned.
So here's to the ones who bear the weight,
Of being the family's debate,
May they find peace in their own esteem,
And realize that they're more than a dream.
For in the end, when all is said and done,
It's not the approval, but the journey begun,
That defines the worth of a single soul,
Not the family's goal, but their own role.
