Many
people
expect
righteousness
from
me.
Perfectness.
Loveliness.
Many
people
expect
things
from
me
I
cannot
produce.
I
cannot
show.
I
cannot
act.
They
like
to
believe-
my
parents
like
to
believe
I
am...
will
be...
will
always
be...
will
never
forget
to
be...
PERFECT.
Though,
I
must
say
this
once-
and
only
once,
I
am
not
just
scared,
afraid,
hurt,
lied
to,
fake(?),
hated,
unloved,
scarred,
I
can
be
happy,
playful
kind,
sweet,
caring,
nice,
forgiving,
loving,
unless
the
fake
personality
my
parents
want
me
to
have
hides
it
all
away...
YOU ARE READING
. . .
PoetryPoems that relates to one poet's... depressing... lovesick... accidental--life.
